


Bumper Cars

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Caring Castiel, Caring Dean, Carnival, Case Fic, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Ghosts, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Dean, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Minor Violence, Original Character Death(s), Sam Ships It, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-17 08:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 111,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Two teenagers are missing from an abandoned carnival, and there’s enough to raise suspicion that their disappearance involves a ghost. Dean, Sam, and Cas arrive in town to investigate, though what they find leads them away from those teenagers, and on the trail of a ghost story that churns up things from their past.Can newly-human Cas, and Dean, with the help of shipper!Sam, work out the mystery behind the abandoned carnival and its ghost, and along the way, figure out the riddle that isthem?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My Tumblr followers!](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+Tumblr+followers%21).



> Hello :)
> 
> This fic is the result of a _Choose Your Own Destiel_ I’ve been doing over on Tumblr since April. For those that read along as it was posting and voted for each part that went up, thank you again; you were great company and I loved doing this with you, it was a lot of fun :) I don’t know… maybe we can do it again sometime? We’ll see...
> 
> This fic is complete, and for those who’ve been reading on Tumblr there’s, as promised, an epilogue that you haven’t read yet, as well as some additional stuff within the fic itself. And for anyone else, I’ll post this every couple of days on here - if you’re anxious to read the original version of this then by all means find it on my Tumblr home page under the same name, but this version posting here will be the most complete version.
> 
> What to tell you about this fic:  
> \- This fic is marked as explicit for things that happen towards the end of it; in fact, it's probably teen and up for a good part of it, then mature, before becoming explicit.  
> \- I’m _Not A Fan_ of John Winchester’s parenting style. This fic shows that.  
>  \- There’s a ghost, so naturally there’s been a death, and it’s not pleasant. It’s mentioned, though not in explicit detail, but I feel it’s probably worth warning about it up front.  
>   
> Here's my usual promises: the worst thing you'll probably ever see from me is angst and hurt/comfort or mild violence/reference to violence happening in the past. You will never, in a million years, see things from me involving lack of consent, torture, or permanent major character death. 
> 
> On account of recent fandom… stuff, a couple of other things. 1) taking this opportunity to announce that as a Destiel-shipper I will never, and have never, hated Sam. I have no idea why Destiel fan=Sam hater for some people; this is a Team Free Will zone! And 2) I am, and will forever be, Team!Switch. Tab A goes into Slot B for both Dean and Cas in my version(s) of them; I try to remember to tag my fics with ‘switching’ to reflect that, but take it as read that for whatever I write about these two, that is how I imagine them.
> 
> And... that's it! Enjoy :) xx

“What is the purpose of these?”

Dean turned on his heel to find Cas crouched down, one hand skimming along the side of a faded-yellow bumper car, with a deep frown etched on his face as he studied it. “These?” Dean asked, with a nudge of his foot against the car to check his meaning. “It’s fun. You just… bounce off the other cars, hard as you can,”

Cas lifted his head slowly to stare at Dean, wordlessly announcing he failed to see what would be fun about that, and Dean couldn’t help but smile. “Trust me,”

With a final pat against the bumper car, Cas stood again, calmly surveying his surroundings without comment. Dean tried to see it through his eyes; an abandoned carnival, where nature had staked its reclaim of their surroundings, an overgrown bumpy road to get them there, and only the vaguest ideas of what they were actually looking for. What interest would that hold for a former angel? For anyone that wasn’t _them_? Dean couldn’t find any, and he’d loved these kinds of things when he was a kid, when abandoned places had once fuelled his imagination. Now they were just somewhere he went to work.

“You know,” Dean started to say, cautious, because he knew that look on Cas’ face. It spoke of short fuses, lack of sleep, and not enough coffee; three things he’d come to associate with Cas and hunting. Honestly; Cas was worse than he ever was, when he had to sleep in an unfamiliar bed, already used to all his creature comforts in the bunker, and incapable of sleeping anywhere else without complaint. “Me and Sam. One time when—when Dad was gone—”

“Your father was often _gone_ ,” Cas interrupted immediately, that frown turning into a scowl, and Dean fought the urge to let his shoulders sag in defeat. It was nothing but true, and it had been years since he’d felt the need to defend his dad; but he’d come to accept his childhood for what it was, and pushed away the worst details of it if they ever tried to get a voice. Give Cas even the slightest hint of things he didn’t like the sound of about Dean and Sam’s childhood, however, and that scowl showed up, punching through any good mood, and typically ending any conversation they’d been in the middle of.

One night, about a week after Cas had first shown up at the bunker as human, the three of them had been sat in the kitchen after dinner, steadily working their way through a lot of scotch. It wasn’t something he did quite so much anymore, but Cas had looked like he needed a drink, as well as company, and Dean sure as hell wasn’t going to let him do it solo. So they’d drank, with Sam disappearing a couple of hours later leaving Dean and Cas alone, drunk enough to let their guards down, drunk enough for hands to linger on arms or shoulders, even on thighs once or twice, breathing in each other’s air, and talking with easy, open honesty.

Not too honest, though, Dean amended quickly to himself, clearing his throat. Not enough for Cas to realize—

“You were saying?” Cas prompted as he came to stand beside him, bringing Dean back from the memory, though enough of it lingering for Dean to recall Cas’ anger at his dad.

 _“You deserved a better upbringing, Dean. A better role model. That you have become who you are… raised Sam to be who he is... it is a miracle, Dean,”_ Cas had announced, leaning into him and staring him down, his eyes full of sincerity and belief in his own words. Just the reminder of it sent a blush creeping over Dean’s cheeks, even then.

“Uh, yeah,” he tried again, shuffling on the spot in discomfort, “me and Sam, we, uh… one time, we snuck into this carnival near the motel Da—he’d left us in. Jumped over the fence; Sam was still a shortass at the time, so I kinda had to hoist him up—”

“It is difficult to imagine Sam being anything other than tall,” Cas smiled, and Dean was relieved to see his frown easing, even more pleased to hear the affection there in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Dean agreed with a snort, “yeah it is. Back then, though, he was short, and cute enough to sweet-talk his way into anything. Turned my back for a second, and he was waving at me from this bright red bumper car, pointing at this blue car next to his. I jump in, he tells me he’d told the guy running it we’d got separated from our dad, and that he’d pay up when he found us,”

“He believed him,” Cas said, incredulous but smiling harder.

“Yeah,” Dean laughed again at the memory, “he did. So, Sam, he goes tearing off the second the buzzer goes, gets himself in the middle of four cars smashing into him from all sides. I work my way over there, ‘cos the car’s jumping all over the place so hard, I think he’s gonna get thrown outta it. And when I get through to him, he’s like... yelling, loving every second of it, giving back just as good. Making heart eyes at this blond girl with braids,”

When Dean looked up again, it was to Cas laughing softly, with a look about him Dean could only describe as wistful, and not knowing what he was supposed to do with it.

“Perhaps that is why this place is thought to be haunted by children; they enjoy these,” Cas mused with a glance around him and a nudge against the car, that smile slipping away. It was a fair assumption, since that was the case they were on, why they were in an abandoned carnival at two in the morning shivering into their jackets.

“Maybe,” Dean shrugged, telling himself to focus, then wondering where Sam had got to. “Hey. You wanna give it a try?”

“What?”

“When we’re done,” Dean said, nodding towards the car between them, “wanna give it a go? Find us a carnival, shoot some cans. Maybe get some cotton candy or something?”

Dean watched Cas consider the suggestion, could tell when he was pondering what _cotton candy_ might be, then gave a small nod, that hint of a smile back on his lips.

Sam called out then for them to join him, and Dean allowed himself a couple more seconds of enjoying Cas’ smile, before nodding in the direction of Sam’s voice, and gesturing for Cas to follow him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched Cas move: the focused way he dropped his head a fraction with a determined stride to carry him forward; the tiny, tiny limp that spoke of new boots still being worn in, that Dean was sure he only noticed because of just how much he caught himself watching Cas; the tension that made his shoulders rigid, and the flex of his fingers, that if Dean allowed the thought to surface, spoke of Cas being nervous. Dean forced the thought back down, denying himself the distraction, bargaining with himself that he'd raise the subject once they were elsewhere.

Could it really have been over three months since Cas had shown up human? Dean shook his head to try to dislodge the thought, but was already counting back the weeks to confirm the passing time. That night he'd arrived, disheveled, broken and hopeless-looking, Dean hadn't been prepared for it at all. Cas hadn't answered his phone in a couple of days, and as much as Dean hated that, it wasn't out of the ordinary for him. He'd not even got around to worrying about Cas by then, or at least, to acknowledging he was worrying. But the look in Cas' eyes when he'd showed up kept Dean awake long into the night after he'd got him settled. Still woke him once or twice, even since then.

Dean shook his head again to focus his thoughts, scoping out their surroundings, shining the flashlight off into the distance yet continuously drawn to Cas, constantly on alert for trouble. Cas had taken to hunting with finesse, with a sense of desperation, almost; Dean didn't need to hear, or want to think, that Cas feared he didn't belong. It didn't matter what he did to reassure him, either; any time he tried to talk to Cas about anything that made him the slightest bit uncomfortable, his defenses came up and shut Dean out altogether.

 _You taught him that_ , Dean growled at himself, catching his thoughts wandering yet again, and giving up trying to rein them in. "Doing okay, Cas?"

"...Yes,"

Dean watched Cas carefully step over a doorframe and nimbly jump over a crumpled, rusting stall sign, and smiled. "Yeah, you are, aren't ya?"

Cas paused to turn to him then, and Dean would swear that look he gave him had the exact same power behind it as it had done when he was an angel.

"I meant," Dean amended, taking a much-less-graceful jump himself to join Cas, "you're doing great. Hunting, I mean. It's like... I mean I know you know all this stuff already, but... you're doing good,"

Cas' hand came out automatically to steady Dean as he stumbled, gripping around his forearm until he righted himself, and leaving Dean arguing with himself about how long it took him to slide his fingers away again.

"Guys, c'mon,"

Sam's repeated call from a few feet away prevented Dean's eyes from seeking out Cas', and as Cas turned on his heel, Dean watched him go, feeling like he'd watched Cas walk away from him more times than he could handle thinking about. Again, he found himself shaking his head, cursing himself for his lack of focus before he could catch up with him.

"I know it was kinda—it was kinda a last minute thing coming here," Dean begun to say once he was next to Cas again, feeling like he was making excuses, and he was, sort of. They'd seen a story about a teen couple going missing a couple of days earlier, but it hadn't really hit their radar properly. It was actually Cas that had brought it up again that morning, when a development in the story had pointed to the disappearance being potentially more their thing.

"It is fine; I am becoming used to it," Cas replied, and Dean took that to mean their frenetic kind of lifestyle, when they never knew where they'd be from one day to the next.

Dean thought about that; when Cas used to drop in on them before he'd fallen, he and Sam had lived no differently. In fact, since they'd moved in to the bunker, they'd actually begun living a more stable kind of life than the one Cas would have found himself in a few years earlier. But now Cas was seeing the constant on the move, on the road stuff with his own now-human eyes, Dean couldn't help imagining just how hard it must be for him to adjust.

"You know, Cas. This... I know this ‘s got to be... I don't know; weird for you. Hunting, and all,"

"Dean—"

"But if... if you wanna... I don't know. Talk about it, or something—"

"Now is not the time," Cas said, sharply cutting him off, glancing over just long enough to silence him, then turning away again in dismissal.

"Hey. So look at this,"

Ignoring the slight jolt in his gut for Cas’ harshness, Dean forced his full attention to Sam, leaning forward to look where he was pointing. There was a deep, broad scoop in the floor of the shooting gallery where it had caved in, suggesting someone had been huddled there, and the scuffle of boot prints in the dirt outside it spoke of running away in a hurry. Dean couldn’t imagine why anyone would think the gallery was a good place to shelter in the first place; it wouldn’t have protected them all that much from the rain, and the frame of the stand was so flimsy, it looked like a strong gust of wind might have it over, so it wasn’t exactly warm, either.

"Must be the place,” Sam said, nodding towards a cracked light, and a pile of food wrappers, “police report said they found some abandoned camping stuff—sleeping bags, food, a broken camping light. Said there were no signs of any kind of struggle or anything—"

"Yet no one has seen or heard from them in days," Cas added to Sam’s words, narrowing his eyes a touch as he stared down himself.

"And this is what, the fifth thing to have happened around here in as many years?" Dean checked, already imagining all kinds of things; from a vengeful ghost reenacting their own death, to a living killer stuck in their past. Neither option sounded good to him, but with ghosts, at least they knew what to do about it. Just as soon as they figured out what it wanted, or what was keeping it around.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, with a grim nod, taking a step back to cast his eye over the stall, "newspaper said some kids came screaming out of here saying they heard voices and got chased out, same night as the two that went missing. Turns out all the kids round here, come here to hang out at night; they're kinda used to ghost stories about this place. But the night these kids went missing—"

"This ghost went off on one?" Dean finished for him. The news report hadn't said much other than that, besides a half-assed attempt at linking incidents around the same time over the past five years. Dean thought for a moment what it might have been like to be a kid wandering round here in the dark, with nothing to worry about but a scary story or two. Then remembered a salt and burn in a place just like this one when he was around fifteen, traipsing reluctantly after his dad, scowling up at the moonlight, wishing he had another life besides his one.

“Guess so,” Sam agreed, cutting off Dean’s train of thought as he turned to shine his flashlight out over the stand once more.

“So there’s… nothing here?” Dean asked, presuming Sam had already scoped the stall out.

“Nothing obvious. I mean, look at it; looks like it’s gonna fall down any minute, Sam said, gripping light around the counter edge and pulling a chunk of it away with ease, proving his point without even intending to, “and there’s… there’s nothing here that’s personal, that I can see, anyway, to keep any ghost around,”

“We should return tomorrow, when we have more information,” Cas pointed out, his tone bordering on smug, and impatient. They’d set off from the bunker pretty late by their standards, and had only stopped to get a motel because Cas refused to move on that point, if nothing else. Most of the drive over had been filled with Cas arguing his opinion that they should speak to the locals first, do some research before going to the abandoned carnival the teens had disappeared from. Dean saw his point—of course it made more sense—but they’d arrived in town too late to really speak to anyone.   

“We will,” he agreed anyway, offering Cas an apologetic smile. Cas glared back for another second before huffing to himself, then gave a tiny shrug, and smiled back. Dean felt eased for it, and wondered if Cas was hungry; it was another time he’d noticed he got grouchy. “You wanna grab some—”

A loud, creaking noise cut Dean off, causing each of them to spin on their heel and seek it out.

“Where—” Dean started asking, shining a flashlight out into the darkness and not seeing anything moving.

“I think it was in that direction,” Cas answered, nodding towards another dilapidated-looking shape looming up behind them. Dean squinted, pausing as the beam passed over the sign, and on making out the faded words _House of Mirrors_ there, started walking towards it.

“I don’t know if—”

But Dean cut off whatever Sam’s objection might have been with a dismissive arm, waving both him and Cas forward. As they got closer, it became obvious that the weather-worn appearance of the rest of the carnival was not the only destruction the House of Mirrors had suffered. The small porch leading up to it had crumbled to almost nothing, leaving a foot high gap to reach it, and from the remains of the top step and all the way along the entire right side, the wall was bubbled and blackened, with the roof collapsed in places, and the smaller stall next to it little more than a few posts of blackened wood and scattered pieces.

“Guess we know what closed this thing down then, huh?” Dean suggested, testing his weight on the step and wincing at its creak, holding his arms out for balance as he climbed up. “It’s good here,” he added, gesturing at the small area he was standing in and offering out a hand that was ignored by Sam, and briefly clasped by Cas as he used it to haul himself up. Cas even leaned into his side a little before pulling away again, Dean was sure of it, then taunted himself for the thought even as they stepped through what was left of the doorway to go inside.

With three flashlights now shining down and over the length of the hallway of mirrors, Dean thought the word _house_ was far too grand for what they were seeing; even without the fire, he didn’t think it would have held more than his glancing attention, and couldn’t imagine that it would have attracted many carnival visitors at all. In its current state, the smoke and soot-damage did enough to blacken most of the mirrors so their effects could no longer be seen, and there was little to suggest anyone had been there in a while, living or otherwise. The light coming in through the gaps in the caved-in ceiling left the place feeling more empty than eerie, offering up no clues to help them at all.

“So this place went up, caught whatever was next to it, and they just... abandoned the entire carnival?” Dean suggested, though it was more of an out loud musing than a real question.

“What would’ve caught fire here? Electrics or something?” Sam asked, his flashlight seeking out what Dean presumed were loose wires or scorch marks, anything pointing to the source of the fire, and seeing nothing himself. “I’m gonna go see what the other thing was next door,”

Dean watched Sam leave, then shone the light back down the length of the small room, walking towards the half-covered end of it for a second time, trying to guess what kind of distortions the mirrors would cause as he passed.

“What is a _House of Mirrors_?” Cas asked, following him closely behind.

“Well,” Dean replied, bringing them to a stop, and after debating with himself for it, lifted his forearm up to wipe down one of the mirrors enough for them to peer into it, “these… they’re distorting, you know? Warp the way you look. You look in them and look… I don’t know. Different. Depends on the mirror. Taller, shorter, like your head’s bigger than your body. Here, look,”

At Dean’s hand on his arm Cas first glanced down to look at it, then allowed Dean to pull him closer and in front of him, turning as guided. Dean watched, as Cas stared at the mirror where his face became elongated, and gave a curious smile that Dean let himself echo just a little over his shoulder. It was enough to show Cas was at least mildly interested, and as they waited for Sam, Dean led Cas along the remaining mirrors, wiping each one down in turn, and pushing away doubts that he’d ever get his jacket clean again, though eager for Cas’ reaction every time.

Without saying a word, Cas gazed over his own reflection, and the one that made him appear to stretch thin and tall seemed to cause the closest thing to amusement. At the last one, his face screwed up in a squint that Dean fought hard against grinning at, where the mirror showed Cas engorged like a balloon.

“This is… fun,” Cas checked, sounding even more doubtful than he had with the bumper cars a few minutes ago.

“Well, yeah,” Dean shrugged, agreeing with Cas’ doubt, “you—you go in with friends, pull faces ‘n stuff. It’s… I don’t know, it’s just—”

“Fun?” Cas finished for him, his shrewd eyebrow saying he didn’t think so at all.

“Sure,” Dean shrugged again, turning away and walking towards the doorway, catching Cas in a mirror off to his left, raising his hand out to touch the mirror’s surface, “see? Look at you all scrawny, and—”

But Cas then bumped into him, brushing against his right shoulder as he passed. Dean’s eyes quickly darted back to the now-empty mirror and then to Cas again, shining the flashlight out over the other mirrors once more, and finding nothing.

“Looks like it was a food truck or something,” Sam called out from outside, getting their attention, “guess something flammable must’ve gone up when this did. There’s barely anything left,”

“We’ll check,” Dean answered absently, looking back in the direction of some creaking coming from behind him, but yet again seeing nothing at all. He was tired now, though, so couldn’t be sure he wasn’t missing, or even something.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, nodding when Dean and Cas came into view, “yeah, we’ll look when we get back to the motel. In the morning maybe,”

“Fresh eyes and all,” Dean added, yawning, “tomorrow. Tomorrow, we’ll—”

An insistent, low rumbling sound cut Dean off then, leaving him grinning as Cas shuffled on the spot beside him, embarrassed and avoiding their eye contact by turning his face away.

“Hungry, Cas?” Dean teased, his hand out and gripping lightly around Cas’ forearm, smiling when he turned a little towards him.

“...A little,”

“‘K. I say we leave here, go find someplace to eat, head back, get some shut-eye. Start again in the morning,” Dean suggested, looking between Cas and Sam for agreement, already seeing Sam nodding, and the beginnings of a smirk there on his face as Cas’ stomach rumbled audibly again. “Cas?” he prompted, when Cas didn’t move.

“I—”

“Gotta eat,” Dean pointed out, stepping a little closer, speaking a touch softer. Cas had developed this habit of not quite checking anything was okay with them before he did it, but more like going out of his way to not _inconvenience_ them. Dean could tell by the look on his face that was exactly what he was thinking right then, and squeezed his fingers a little firmer around Cas’ arm in reassurance, patting his own stomach.

“Starving,” Sam added with a smile, and that was evidently what Cas needed to hear to agree to it, “think we passed a pizza place couple of blocks from the motel,”

“Sounds good. Cas?” and Dean saw the curve of his mouth that said Cas liked the idea before he opened it to say as much.

Their boots crunched in silence in the dirt as the three of them made their way out of the abandoned carnival, casting half-hearted glances out around them but lacking any enthusiasm to do anything like hunt. The outline of the Impala in the distance settled Dean, like any sense of home did, already feeling the comfort of the seats beneath him and grip of the wheel against his palms.

“The concept of our reflection… _mirrors_ ,” Cas said, almost to himself as he fell into step beside Dean, “it is not something I ever considered before taking a vessel,”

“No, I guess… I guess it’s not like you needed to check yourself out when you—back _then_ ,” Dean agreed, nodding.

“I do not ‘check myself out’ _now_ ,” Cas retorted, a little indignant, just enough to have Dean fighting back a smile all over again. It was a lie, anyway; he’d caught Cas staring at himself in the mirror on more than one occasion, seeming to be attempting to look _inside_ himself with the intensity of his focus. Once or twice he’d nearly worked up the courage to ask what it was Cas was looking for there, but had stopped himself before the words came out.

“Still. Woulda been hard anyway to look at yourself then. I mean; gotta be hell tryna find a full-length mirror when you’re the size of the Chrysler Building—”

“—Chrysler Building,” Cas finished for him at the same time, turning to him and grinning for it.

“But like… you knew what you looked like. Right?” Sam asked, curious as Sam was always eagerly curious, and dragging Cas’ eyes away from Dean over to him.

“Of course. Although _sight…_ self-awareness as an angel, is… _different_ ,” Cas added, with Dean studying every micro-expression he gave, and wishing not for the first time he could have just a few minutes inside Cas’ head, know what he was really thinking for once.

“Is it weird? Being so… I don’t know,” Sam shrugged, “small now? Compared to when you _were_ an angel?”

In the past, at least when Cas had first come into their lives, Dean had tried to imagine what the _real_ Cas might look like. He’d poured over bibles, studied paintings in religious texts, all to get a possible glimpse of Cas in his true form. But for the longest time, Cas had just been _Cas_ to him, angel or human. His friend. His family. His —

“It is no longer _weird_ , no, Sam. This body is as much me, as _I_ am, now,” Cas answered, solemn, and quiet. Dean knew without even asking that it had taken Cas a long time to look at the body he occupied as _his_ , rather than just a vessel that he wore. The guilt for Jimmy still lingered there, he knew that as well, but Cas had allowed himself to accept it over time.

There were so many things Dean wished he had the courage to ask Cas, he thought then, watching discreetly as Cas cranked open the back door of the Impala and slid in, briefly catching his gaze again once he was down in his own seat. Not just about the things he’d denied to himself about Cas for so long, but the general stuff as well. What he was thinking, how he felt about things, what he missed; everything, really. Everything about Cas had Dean’s attention, left him wanting to know more.

Cas caught his eye in the mirror again, a slightly raised eyebrow telling him he’d been staring back at Cas a little longer than he should, a lot longer than he’d realized.

“Let’s go get some pizza,” Dean announced, clearing his throat for the slight crack in his voice as he spoke. He caught a small, pleased smile on Cas’ face in the rearview mirror, and echoed it before shaking his head at himself, then winced as the radio screeched to life the moment he started the engine, and reached out to switch it off.

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Cas, it turned out, was ravenous.

Dean had watched his appetite fluctuate over the past three months, seen him sampling food thoughtfully in his rediscovery of what he liked and didn’t like, and had even secretly looked up recipes in the hopes of finding something that would turn out to be Cas’ new favorite. Pizza currently hit the top of that list, and Sam had known that when he’d suggested the place, sharing a private grin with Dean across the table of the restaurant as Cas devoured a large pizza all to himself in minutes.

Sam’s grin for him was no longer in shared affection once they got back to the motel, though, and truthfully, Dean could have kicked himself for forgetting the predicament he’d walked himself into earlier by not paying enough attention. No, that grin was an impossible mix of gleeful, and teasing, and the taunt in Sam’s voice as he’d said _goodnight_ before closing the door in Dean’s face, leaving him in the adjacent room alone with Cas, was nothing but wicked.

Sucking in a couple of breaths before he could face following Cas in, the belated reminder that both rooms they’d got had queen beds also came to Dean, making his heart jolt for the closeness that would mean. And whereas Sam would be spread eagle and dangling off both sides of his bed, _he_ would teetering along one edge, willing his mind —and hands—not to wander in his sleep.

“This fabric is… irritating,”

When Dean finally found the courage to look at anything besides the awful carpet, it was to find Cas stood at the very corner of the bed, with the gaudy pink coverlet edge slipping between his thumb and finger as he rubbed them back and forth. A single step closer revealed a deep, disapproving frown ridged his face, and Dean groaned internally for the expected barrage of complaints.

“Yeah, well, not exactly a five star,” Dean answered, letting his eyes glance over the bed for a single second before his stomach started knotting, then snatched his bag up from the end of it and dropped it down on the small table to the side of the room, to start rummaging through for something to wear for bed, and attempt to distract himself.

“I apologize if I keep you awake,”

There was something in Cas’ tone that had Dean peering back over his shoulder, struggling to figure it out. He turned a fraction more, watched Cas drop the coverlet and sigh, before dragging his own bag across the bed and yanking it open.

“Yeah, well… don’t worry about it. In fact, same; sorry if I kick you in my sleep or something. I mean, I don’t _normally_ , but—”

“I imagine we will both be uncomfortable,” Cas added, raising his eyes to Dean for a moment then dropping them again, Dean’s gaze falling to Cas’ hands as he pulled out a toiletries bag and a neatly piled change of clothes.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Dean denied instantly, turning fully to look him and shaking his head, “I mean… if I can share a bed with Sam and live to tell the tale, then I—”

“I am not your brother,” Cas said, cutting him off, his eyes narrowing in on him in thought. Dean didn’t know whether to be crushed, relieved, or terrified for Cas’ statement, and settled on shifting in discomfort.

“No, I guess—"

“I meant,” Cas added, taking a step forward, a tiny look of worry crossing his face, “that you have grown up with Sam. You are used to sharing accommodation with him. With me, however—”

“We’ll deal,” Dean interrupted, offering a weak smile that Cas’ eyes fell to for a second before glancing back up, going back to studying him in silence. Dean zeroed in on the sound of a car door slamming outside to divert his attention, to prevent his mouth from blurting out things he was nowhere near ready for having anywhere outside of his own head.

“You should take the first shower,” Cas announced when he’d finished staring, tilting his chin in the direction of the bathroom, returning to going through his bag, and this time pulling out a phone charger.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Cas insisted, glancing over his phone briefly as he plugged it in then looking back to Dean, “then you cannot complain that I have used all the hot water,” and the small, teasing smile accompanying it had Dean grinning back helplessly and rolling his eyes, then retreating into the bathroom without another word, resting his forehead against the back of it for a second and telling himself to stop being an idiot.

He rushed through a shower, avoiding eye contact with himself in the mirror afterward like by doing so, it would deny the way his mind was racing. It was no big deal sharing a room—a bed with Cas—it really wasn’t. It wasn’t like they had any other options, anyway; the motel was full, there were only those two rooms left, and no one could be expected to share a bed with Sam unless they were _with_ Sam. Logically, Dean reasoned, like he was kidding himself there’d even been a choice in the matter, it was obvious that if this kind of thing came up, he would always be the one to share a room with Cas anyway. He’d probably even insist on it, make excuses for why it had to happen like that.

No big deal.

Except, taunted a gleeful voice in the back of his head as he dried then dressed himself, he’d thought about this very thing happening, multiple times. Of having a legitimate excuse to be alone with—fall asleep next to Cas, to wonder what might happen when they were both relaxed, and sleepy. Not that he’d ever use that as an excuse to let his guard down, of course, since Cas hadn’t shown him even the slightest bit of interest since falling, not—not the kind of interest perhaps he’d imagined Cas might have had in him back when he was still an angel. The reminder had Dean’s heart sinking, enough to free him from his own thoughts to get himself ready for bed, call himself ridiculous, pushing any lingering thinking of Cas away much easier.

There was a brief surge in his mind wandering when Cas went for his shower, leaving Dean staring at the bathroom door and willing his eyes to look elsewhere. Even at the bunker Dean often found himself on edge for the realization that Cas was taking a shower. Thoughts of him under a warm spray and naked had Dean shifting in discomfort every time, including right then, as his mind went from Cas being alone in his room in the bunker taking himself in hand, to Cas doing that in the shower just a few feet from him, and—

Dean cut himself off abruptly, standing and pacing the room, pausing only to look down at his t-shirt and boxers, and ask himself for the tenth time if he shouldn’t just put on his jeans for bed, not be so casual about this—since clearly, casual wasn’t how he was feeling at all. He took in Cas’ neatly prepared _work_ clothes folded on the room’s only chair ready for the morning, the more chaotic tangle of the rest of the contents of his bag now spewed over the floor, and caught himself smiling, fighting the urge to tidy up after him.

The sound of the shower being turned off grabbed Dean’s attention, returning him to perching on the end of the bed, where he debated getting _in_ to bed for a second, then decided against it, going back to playing with his phone, pretending he was doing something for when Cas came back out.

An indecipherable grumble from the bathroom had his head raising again, tensing up as the door cracked open, as Cas came limping out a second after.

“What happened?” Dean asked, already up and across the room. Instinctively he wrapped his hand around Cas’ arm, but it was immediately shrugged off, as Cas made his way towards his bag, dumped his laundry to the side of it, then stooped to grab a bottle of painkillers, straightening up again in what seemed to Dean like slow-motion. Dean caught himself staring at Cas’ ass the entire time, and chided himself for it, hand to the back of his neck as he felt his cheek heat scarlet. Though where else was he supposed to put his eyes when Cas was bent over in front of him like that, wearing only a tight white t-shirt and short black trunks, and not seeming self-conscious about it whatsoever, Dean didn’t know.

What happened?” Dean repeated, stepping closer, earning himself a glare as Cas turned rapidly to find Dean stood right there behind him.

“It is nothing—”

“If you’re taking these, it’s clearly not _nothing_ ,” Dean argued, tapping the lid of the bottle before sliding it from Cas’ fingers and checking the label, then shaking some out on to Cas’ waiting palm.

“I am still getting used to my boots,” Cas said, the words making Dean glance down and exhale a little burst of sympathy for the redness around his toes on one foot, and heel of the other.

“Well, yeah, I get that. I don’t think these are gonna help all that much with that, though,” Dean answered, watching him swallow the pills back anyway, and turn to push his water bottle on to the closet behind him. “Let me take a look,”

“Dean—”

“Cas. You can’t—just… let me take a look. Just… sit, wouldya?” he pleaded, and hoping Cas would follow suit, Dean slumped down on the bed and patted the space beside him. Cas watched his hand in silence, and after what felt to Dean like a very long moment, relented with a drop of his shoulders, before stiffly sitting down.

“‘K. What’s that about?” Dean asked as he waved a hand towards Cas’ chest, watching as he braced his arms against the bed, and in obvious pain, pivoted himself until his feet were up on the bed in front of Dean, ready for inspection.

“Nothing,”

“Don’t give me that—”

“Nothing, Dean,” Cas repeated, to which Dean was about to argue back, but seeing the burst blisters and surrounding redness on Cas’ feet up close gave him enough to think about, carefully reaching out to turn his ankle to inspect it closer, then doing the same with his foot, smirking to himself when Cas jerked back from his touch, fairly sure he was ticklish.

With a final quick squeeze to his shin to show Cas he was moving, Dean crossed the room and pulled a small first aid kit from his bag, uncapping a tube of antiseptic ointment as he walked back and carefully dabbing it on for him once sat, then sorted band-aids big enough to cover the wounds. Cas made no move to stop him, so when he was happy the ointment was dry, Dean applied those as well, pressing gently around the outside of them to make sure they were secure. Cas tilted his head from side to side inspecting his work, and gave a small, sharp nod.

“Thank you,”

“Sam used to suffer something awful with these,” Dean shrugged, already packing up the kit and crossing the room again, ducking into the bathroom to wash his hands then coming to stand at the end of the bed. This was easy, he reminded himself sternly, easy as anything. No big deal. “You sleeping this side?”

Cas nodded in agreement, and out of the corner of his eye Dean watched him stiffly struggle to his feet again, taking another drag of his water and letting out a sigh that came out more like a soft moan.

“‘K. Good; I normally sleep this side anyway,” Dean nodded, biting back a question as he snatched up his phone, taking a moment to make sure the doors and windows were locked, then turning out the main light so the room was a muted pink glow coming from their bedside lamps.

“I know,”

Dean watched Cas hesitating beside the bed, saw him bend to lift the covers with the same stiffness he’d shown a few minutes earlier, then gripped it with determination and climbed into bed, his face a mask that did a poor job of concealing whatever pain he was in.

“Out with it,” Dean demanded, but Cas just shook his head in denial, even as Dean huffed and did his best to slide down beside him as though it was the most normal, natural thing for him to do. They both shifted awkwardly to get comfortable, leaning towards their own sides of the bed, avoiding meeting in the middle. “You’re obviously hurting—”

“Dean—”

“You sick or something? We need to get you to an urgent care, or—”

“No,”

The alarmed bite of Cas’ reply had Dean gritting his teeth, but he wasn’t about to drop it. If Cas was sick, they needed to get him checked over; no amount of pretending he was okay would do him—any of them—any favors in the middle of a hunt. Or at any other time, either.

“Cas, you need to—”

“I don’t like hospitals,”

Cas’ blunt answer caught Dean by surprise, though he felt stupid for it; of course Cas didn’t like hospitals; he’d not exactly had the best experience with them in the past. “No one said anything about—”

“I don’t like anything medical,” Cas amended, sounding petulant, though determined; Dean’s lips twitched of their own accord in amusement for it.

“Okay, but you gotta—”

“This is _normal_ , Dean,” Cas insisted, which of course, had Dean’s attention, had him rolling over on to his side and looking down at Cas laying there stiffly on his back.

“Uh… what’s normal?”

“This,” Cas sighed, with a gesture of his hand that made the covers shift. He glanced down at his now exposed upper chest and huffed to himself in complaint, making to move, though Dean beat him to it by reaching out and dragging the covers back up, pressing them firm against his shoulder, then kicking himself for the gesture. Cas tracked his hand through the entire movement, finally bringing his eyes up to look at him. “The pain. The… the _ache._ This is… normal,”

“Pain isn’t _normal_ ,” Dean countered, ignoring the irony of what he was saying. How many times had him or Sam worked through wounds, broken ribs, dislocated shoulders, and so on? But Cas was different: Cas shouldn’t have to, Cas shouldn’t—

“When angels fall, Dean,” Cas said, sounding exhausted and resigned to his situation, “it is not… it is not just as _simple_ as… losing a grace. Gaining a soul. Becoming _human_. We have to… we need time to adjust to our human bodies. As angels, we experience pain differently —not at all like humans do. It is… impossible to describe. But for us… becoming human, it is… it is _painful_ ,”

Dean’s heart beat in protest for hearing it, never having considered the possibility before, but a few things clicked into place for him; the times Cas was snappy coinciding with the frown written over his face just then, his repeated complaints about needing to be _comfortable_ making a lot more sense, and the way he often caught Cas gritting his teeth, battling through something in silence, had Dean’s hand out automatically, gripping around his arm.

“Cas. You shoulda… you shoulda _said —_”

“There is little you can do, Dean,” Cas replied with a tired sigh, his eyes flitting down to Dean’s hand a couple of times before returning back to the ceiling. “And it is not all the time. Not always _bad_. It is usually worse when I have not slept well, or… or we have been driving for some time. The pain relief, when I need it, it is… it is helping,”

“How… how long’s this go on for?” Dean asked, wincing for the hours they’d spent in the car that day, wondering how much that had contributed to how Cas was feeling.

“I do not know. This is something we _know_ , but not something that is widely discussed. It is perhaps more… complex for me, given that this vessel is mine, and that—”

“That why you been popping pills like they’re M&Ms?” Dean cut him off with, the realization hitting him and rolling him unconsciously closer. Cas cast a contrite gaze in his direction for a second before closing his eyes and nodding. “You… you know those things’ve got limits and stuff on ‘em, right? Like… you can’t take too many in a day, can overdose on them if you do. Can even get addicted if—”

“I know,” Cas shook his head, stopping him, “I know, Dean, but sometimes I need… sometimes it is too… it is too much to ignore it,”

“What… what kinda—what’s the pain like?” Dean asked, far softer than intended, though loud enough for Cas’ eyes to open again, and his lips to purse together as he considered the question.

“It is… it is mostly a persistent ache, where there is nothing… no position that is _comfortable_. Sometimes there are shooting pains in my limbs that I cannot ignore,” he added, a quick flick of his arm as though to point it out, “but mostly, it is this gnawing, background ache. I ignore it much of the time; I only take pain relief when it becomes… distracting. And I am also aware of the general _wear and tear_ of a body of this age, so I expect _some_ pain, regardless,”

Dean hoped the glance he gave over the outline of Cas’ body there beneath the covers was rapid enough not to have been noticed, and cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, getting old sucks, I hear you on that,”

With a soft groan, Cas was rolling himself on to his side as well, so they were now propped up on their elbows and facing each other, barely a foot apart. “You are also in pain?”

“Sometimes,” Dean agreed, “but it’s not like… constant. It’s not… you sure we don’t need to get you checked out? Just in case it’s _not_ that —”

“I am _fine_ ,” Cas insisted, giving a minute eye-roll before he could stop himself, “I know this vessel well enough to know whether something is seriously wrong or not,”

“You know, it’s not a _vessel_ now. It’s your _body_ ,” Dean countered, raising an eyebrow to challenge any argument Cas may or may not be about to give, smirking when he rolled his eyes again, but then nodded, even gave a small smile.

“I do,”

“So—”

“So I am _fine_ ,” Cas insisted, “I just need… this is just going to take some time to adjust,”

“Okay,” Dean agreed, not liking it, but what else was he supposed to say? “But if… if you need anything… if it gets too much, or… or you—if you need anything—”

“I’ll tell you,” Cas finished for him, that smile widening a touch, “I will. Thank you for… your concern. And this,” he added, wriggling his feet beneath the covers, drawing Dean’s eyes to the movement, and unable to smile for it.

“How ‘bout we get some sleep, huh?” Dean suggested then, nudging against him and tilting his chin towards his pillow. Cas nodded in answer then wriggled down beneath the covers, turning once again on to his back, this time exhaling a groan that he didn’t bother trying to hide. Dean sent him a half-smile when he was settled, then reached out to turn off the light, and got comfortable himself.

* * *

To his surprise, Dean had no problem sleeping with Cas by his side at all. He’d listened as Cas had made a final turn on to his side away from him with a muffled _goodnight_ as he went, and waited until he was sure he was asleep. And then he’d carefully turned away himself, bracing for the waves of awkwardness to hit, the whispered reminders of Cas being in touching distance but still out of his reach, but instead fell into a deep, relaxed sleep.

That sleep was disturbed a little later, however, with Dean startling awake and taking a couple of seconds to remember his surroundings, then sitting up sharply at the creaking open of the bathroom door, wincing against the chink of light shining out across the room.

On noticing Dean sat up and looking at him, Cas froze in the doorway, silhouetted by the light and sighing visibly. “I am sorry that I woke you,” he said as he walked back towards the bed, sounding disappointed with himself.

“S’fine,”

Dean laid back down, feeling the bed shift and dimple beside him as Cas climbed back in, grumbling a little to himself, then apologizing again when his leg knocked against Dean’s as he turned back over. Dean jerked away the second he felt it; not for the touch, but how cold it was. Though Cas seemed to interpret the movement otherwise, curling inwards and tucking himself as far away from Dean as was possible.

“You’re freezing,” Dean said, not even pausing to consider what he was doing as he rolled over, and patting Cas on the hip beneath the covers, “get back here,”

“Dean?”

“Just… shuffle back a bit. It’s… cold,” and hoping he didn’t need to explain himself, Dean tapped his fingers against him in encouragement then waited, both relieved and apprehensive when after a moment, Cas cautiously backed towards him. Bracing himself, and with a courage borne entirely of still being half asleep, Dean shuffled forward until his front was pressed up against Cas’ back, and his knees slotted into the backs of Cas’. “It’s… it’ll warm you up. How long were you out of bed, anyway?”

“...a while,”

Cas’ cautious answer had Dean unthinkingly spreading and pressing his fingers a little firmer into Cas’ side, staring at the back of his head in the dark. “You slept at all?”

“Only briefly,”

“Cas—”

“My leg—the back of it. When I tried to sleep, it… it hurt,”

“What, like cramp, or something?” Dean asked, stopping himself just in time from sliding his hand down Cas’ side, to stroke over his calf. Cursing himself for even having the thought.

“Yes. I… I didn’t want to try to sleep again until I was sure it was gone,” Cas admitted, then shuffled a little against him, still rigid with tension; Dean squeezed against his hip and pressed his chest firmer into Cas’ back, relieved to feel that where their skin touched, Cas was warming up.

“Doing okay now?” Dean prompted, finding himself pressing closer still, his mouth so close to the back of his head now that Cas’ hair was tickling his lips.

“...yes,” Cas answered after a long pause, and again his hesitation had Dean’s full attention.

“Out with it,”

“Dean—”

“C’mon, Cas—”

“This is… unexpected,” Cas answered, the word coming out like it had been analyzed thoroughly then carefully selected, despite being all but spat out.

“What is?”

“This. _You_ ,” Cas emphasized with a slight wriggle back against him. Dean’s heart both plummeted and started surging, for realizing, finally, just how he’d draped himself around Cas without asking, without invitation, without even stopping to think of the consequences.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, beginning to pull away from him, but was stopped with Cas’ cautious hand grasping his.

“I wasn’t… I am not _complaining_ , Dean. I just… I did not realize I needed… I wanted—this feels… _pleasant_ ,” he settled on saying, and after another obvious pause, pulled Dean’s hand, pressing until it was flat, and resting on his stomach.

Millennia, Dean thought, his heart now aching for Cas as he tucked himself back in properly behind him; Cas had spent millennia without experiencing things like emotion, or touch. And since they’d first met, Cas had received a crash course in both of those things, had it forced on him in many ways, had to grow accustomed to them just for sticking around to _help_. It was never anything that he _needed_. But now, he’d been fully human three months, and the only physical contact Cas had received in all that time had been the briefest of hugs, pats on shoulders in passing, or nudges against limbs; who wouldn’t be a little touch deprived from all of that? The thought had Dean ignore the alarm bells sounding in his head about reading things wrong, and grip Cas’ fingers between his, settling himself more comfortably. Fighting back the urge to smile.

“Get some sleep,” Dean whispered, not even pretending it wasn’t pressed into the back of Cas’ head. He could deny it was anything more than comfort all he wanted in the morning, he reasoned, but right then, this was his task. Keeping Cas warm, letting him feel _something_. Helping him get some rest.

Dean closed his eyes and let out a small yawn, and found himself rapidly falling asleep.

* * *

A pounding on the door woke them both in the morning, with Cas slow to move and curling up into a ball as Dean jolted up and away, flailing out his arms. Sam’s muffled, cautious calling of his name came a second later, and Dean relaxed, huffing to himself for being so jumpy.

“C’mon, sunshine, time to get up,” Dean croaked out, his hand reaching out unthinkingly to squeeze around Cas’ hip before he stretched and gave a loud yawn, hopping out of bed, feeling a world more relaxed than he’d been expecting to. He turned back to the bed, looking at the Cas-shaped ball curled up practically into one corner of it, and felt himself grinning.

“Hey. Cas. Gotta get up,” he called again, a little softer, glancing around and snatching up his jeans from the chair he’d folded them over the previous night, watching Cas’ continued lack of movement as he zipped and buttoned himself up.

“Cas—”

A loud, low groan of protest answered him, but finally Cas started moving, and Dean watched the covers shift and fall as Cas sat up, his hair sticking up in every direction, and his face so long and grumpy that Dean barely managed to hold back his laugh.

“Want me to tell Sam to come back?” he asked, shrugging into a shirt as Cas stood and stretched gingerly, testing out his movement.

“No, it’s fine,” Cas answered with a resigned shake of his head, stumbling on his way towards the bathroom and bumping into Dean on route, steadying himself on his arm before he continued, and still muttering under his breath even as he closed the door. Dean grinned after him for another second then crossed the room to let Sam in.

“Morning,”

Sam’s beaming, smug expression as he walked in had Dean’s hackles up the second he saw it, ushering him forwards and barely stopping himself from slamming the door behind him.

“Sammy,”

“Sleep well?” he asked, the tone in his voice even more taunting. Dean curled his fingers into fists and told himself to ignore it.

“Not bad,”

“Must’ve been the shared body heat and all; was a cold night,” Sam teased, that grin turning even more wicked.

“Sam—”

“Dean,”

They both turned as the bathroom door opened and Cas’ head popped out, looking marginally more alert than he had done just seconds before.

“I forgot my clothes,”

Sam’s snort had Dean wincing; Cas’ head turned slowly to observe him, staring wordlessly until Sam shifted from foot to foot, cleared his throat, and looked elsewhere.

“How ‘bout we go for breakfast. Research while we’re at it; decide what we’re gonna do here,” Dean suggested, smiling for Sam’s discomfort as he bent to pick up Cas’ clothes. Cas accepted them from him with a mumbled thank you and a small smile, before ducking back into the bathroom and softly closing the door.

Dean spun round with a scowl, daring Sam to make any other comments, but thankfully found he had nothing to add but agreement with Dean’s idea.

“I’ll go get my stuff,” Sam said after another moment, nodding to the door and walking towards it.

“‘K. We’ll be out in a minute,” Dean agreed as he left, secretly relieved; out of nowhere, this all felt unnecessarily uncomfortable, and he felt he could do with a minute to get his bearings. But he wasn’t even given that reprieve; seconds later Cas wandered out and across the room, with Dean’s focus narrowing in on the slightly stiff way he sat down on the bed, the grit of his teeth as he bent for his boots, and the slight wince he gave as he slid them on.

“They still hurt?” Dean asked, nodding towards his feet as Cas stared down at them.

“A little,”

“And… you?” Dean added, waving a hand towards him. “You feeling okay?”

Cas stood, arms out slightly to his sides, looking down as though considering himself, then nodded. “I am fine. I ache, a little, but it is… bearable,”

“‘K. You… you need anything?”

“No,” Cas shook his head, raising it to look at Dean again, and smile, “breakfast would be appreciated, however,”

“You hungry?” Dean smiled, grabbing up his phone and wallet, watching Cas reach for his own things as they prepared to leave.

“Starving,” Cas agreed, a hand pressed wide on his stomach. Dean thought about his own hand pressed there overnight whilst they slept, and shifted in discomfort.

“Ready?” he asked, twitching to leave now that his mind had caught up to reminding him they’d spent the night together, curled up and comfortable in a bed. Cas nodded, and the smile he gave him had Dean stumbling, desperate to get outside before he said, or did, anything stupid.

“Dean,”

Dean stopped in his tracks, one hand curled around the door handle already, and half-looking back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For… for last night,”

Dean looked back at him properly to find a grateful, slightly blushing smile waiting for him, and found himself winking in answer, then himself under his breath for it, and ducking out of the room.

* * *

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The diner booth was typical of those that generally Dean tried to avoid when the three of them ate together, being far too small to comfortably support their three large frames. If there were only two of them, they could get away with it, barely, by Sam sitting at an angle with his feet out into the aisle, so his knees weren’t squashed up beneath the underside of the table collecting things Dean had no wish to know about. And if it was just him and Cas, then aside from the occasional, mostly-accidental knocking of their knees together, there was no problem at all. Not really, anyway.

The three of them though, there was just no room. And whilst he wasn’t exactly complaining about being crammed in one side with Cas so Sam had space to not dislocate his limbs whilst trying to eat, it did mean an awareness of that closeness was present - unavoidable, throughout the entire meal. It left Dean slightly on edge, trying not to press into Cas’ side, leaning out into the aisle to give himself room to lift his cutlery from his plate, without Cas getting an elbow in his face. And the heat of Cas' thigh pressed tight against his own made every mouthful of food an uncomfortable swallow.

The three of them researching as well as eating, that was going to be near on impossible. But, Dean groaned internally for double-checking, the diner was teeming with people, and since they’d apparently picked the busiest time to visit, they’d have to make do with what they had. He told himself that repeatedly, trying to keep his voice as unaffected as was possible as they discussed what they already knew about the case, with him and Cas mumbling apologies at each other every time they touched. That closeness of them sharing a bed overnight had dissolved into awkwardness, and yet he was sure he wasn’t imagining it; Cas was softer with him, gentler with his words, and actions.

When they’d first sat down, Sam’s pointed smile at him with a tiny dart of his eyes over to Cas had left Dean scowling, but when he couldn’t get any verbal rise out of Dean, Sam’s attention had fallen on Cas. Cas, who perhaps hadn’t known the origin of the mirth in his voice, but still turned his _why are you bothering me_ glare on him, staring long enough for Sam to cough awkwardly and turn his eyes elsewhere. Dean even thought he saw a tiny smile of triumph cross Cas’ lips when Sam’s head was turned; it might just be that he had an unnecessary fixation on watching Cas at every opportunity, however, Dean reminded himself, shifting in awkwardness yet again, and having to mutter yet another apology for knocking against Cas’ arm.

Dean watched again, as Cas neatly folded his cutlery against the plate - an instinct he assumed was left over from Jimmy - then wrapped his fingers around his coffee mug, giving a discreet glance down at Dean’s plate that Dean would not have caught at all if he wasn’t watching him so closely all the time.

“You still hungry?” he asked, not really surprised. Cas’ appetite hit both extremes - either not hungry at all, or like he was making up for lost time; apparently the past few days were hungry ones.

“I’m fine,”

“Cas,” he prompted, knowing he’d deny it just to not be an _inconvenience_ , “c’mon,”

“Perhaps a little,” Cas relented with a sigh, his glance this time meeting Dean’s eyes, and looking _guilty_ of all things.

“‘K. What’ll it be?”

“I don’t… I am not _very_ hungry,”

“How ‘bout…” Dean began, his eyes darting out to a passing waitress with a laden tray for ideas, “French toast? Pancakes? Bis-”

“French toast. And… more coffee,” Cas added, already draining his mug and pushing it across the table in front of Dean.

“Sam? You want anything?” Dean asked as he waved a hand to get the waitress’ attention on the way back, catching Sam’s brief shake of his head as he stacked up their plates and half-heartedly wiped the table down, then pulled out a laptop from his bag wedged in the seat corner.

“I can eat later if you are both not eating,” Cas suggested, also shaking his head, dismissing the idea.

“No, you’re hungry. Eat; not like you can’t multitask,” Dean insisted, raising an eyebrow daring him to argue; something he felt he was doing a lot of lately with Cas. Cas held his gaze for a few seconds before relenting, shooting a quick smile at the waitress as Dean ordered, and mumbling a quiet _thank_ _you_ when Dean slid his refilled coffee back across.

“So. You two start looking; I’m gonna grab a paper,” Dean announced, stopping just long enough to tilt his chin at the tablet Cas was pulling out of his own bag. It struck him then, that without intending to, he’d taken to giving Cas stuff to carry when they went on hunts, having noticed Cas’ hands constantly twitching whilst they drove, looking for things to do. Dean wondered if it was the residual pain Cas had told him about, or a need to keep busy, or boredom, even; on more than one occasion, he’d turned on the tablet to find a half-finished puzzle of whatever Cas was interested in playing at the time.

Stepping outside the diner, Dean turned his face up towards the sun and closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and watched his breath cloud in front of him as he shivered into his jacket. Cold and clear the weather had said on his phone earlier, and it wasn’t wrong; he shuddered again at the thought of putting on his suit later for interviewing, mentally going over what he’d packed so he could add another layer underneath.

Truthfully, there was no real need to get an actual newspaper, but he wanted a minute of fresh air, to scan the street they were on, get a feel for their surroundings like he always did at the beginning of a case. And he needed to take a break from the nonstop mutterings in the back of his head reminding him of Cas’ closeness there in the booth, which was something else he’d found himself doing a fair amount of in the past few months since Cas had been more regularly around. Constantly around, he amended, smiling for it, then groaning at himself, and shaking the thought away.

Grabbing a paper from the street vendor in front of the diner, Dean spent a couple of minutes making idle conversation, trying to gleam a little information about the missing teens and abandoned carnival, and on hearing nothing new, headed back inside. Cas was humming in agreement when he reached their booth, and Dean couldn’t quite tell if it was for the piece of French toast that bulged his cheek out hamster-like, or in answer to Sam’s repeating of the news that the teenagers were still missing.

“Not exactly made the front page here,” Dean said, tapping the paper as he dropped it on the table and sunk down into his seat, “thought it might for a town this small. But it says we got an angry estranged dad the police want to question since they don’t have any other leads. Problem is, he lives a state over,”

“That might fit,” Sam replied, tapping furiously at the keyboard for a burst and then nodding to himself, “says the last possible sighting of them besides the carnival, was down by the bus station; maybe they were trying to reach him?”

“Why would they want to spend time with a father that was _angry_?” Cas asked, raising his head slowly to look at Sam, then leaning over a little to where Dean’s fingers tapped over the article in the paper. Dean told himself he was ignoring the warmth of Cas’ arm wedged against his.

“Maybe… maybe there was an argument with the mom or something?” Sam guessed, shrugging as he looked up for a second.

“Doubt it; seems the relationship with Mom’s solid, and both parents for the other kid. Vendor out there says everyone’s whispering ‘bout it but got nothing to actually say about it. They’re not- not the kinds of kids to run away apparently; straight A students, on a bunch of teams and stuff at school,”

“Maybe they were under unknown pressures,” Cas mused, solemn and sorrowful, and Dean bit down on his cheeks to prevent a smile that was threatening.

“Could be,” he agreed anyway with a small nod, taking a slip of his coffee, “guess we need to- we need to start asking around some more. Obviously,”

"Maybe we should try and talk to some of the kids that ran from the carnival that night," Sam suggested, slumping back a little in his seat, “got the names of… four of ‘em that got mentioned by the local news,”

“We’re gonna just turn up at the high school and start asking questions?” Dean asked with a snort, watching as Cas cut into a second slice of his toast.

“Would you like some?” Cas offered, pushing the plate towards him when he caught Dean looking. Dean debated for a second then pinched up a slice between his fingers and took a large bite, earning himself a smile from Cas, and a look from Sam that he blatantly ignored.

“I’ll do some digging,” Sam replied, and Dean glanced over just enough to catch the tail-end of a smirk around his lips, “we’ve got Tasha, and Rebecca, who according to this,” he said, nodding at his screen, “should be in soccer practice after school. We got Wayne, and we’ve got a Garrett,”

“We-”

“No, wait. Garrett’s in foster care,” Sam interrupted, pursing his lips as he tapped at the laptop, “says here he’s being fostered by the couple who own the grocery store across the street. Guess we can stop by? Ask what he saw?”

“How come he’s in foster care?” Dean asked, leaning over to look at the tablet where Cas was pointing to an older news report about the carnival; again telling himself he wasn’t deliberately lingering against him.

“Uh… he- his parents died. Car crash, couple years ago,” Sam answered. Dean saw the sadness cross his face, felt his own shoulders drop, then Cas nudge into his side, in what he assumed was solidarity. Dean leaned back, gave a brief smile, then pulled away again before Sam could comment.

“And… _Wayne…_ he- actually, he’s the guy who was clearing tables in the pizza place last night,” Sam added a moment later. Dean sighed, pleased to hear it; sometimes the best thing about hunts in such small places like this one meant very little footwork.

“So; what are we doing till school’s out?” he asked, pressing back against the table, unconsciously taking up a little too much room, and feeling Cas stiffen beside him. The reminder of Cas’ pain came back to him again, and had him caught between pulling away, and wanting to ask if he was okay. He tried to do both without moving or speaking; Cas shot him a brief look and tiny head shake that told him to say nothing.

“There are records in the local library about the carnival,” Cas suggested, pointing to the tablet again, “perhaps we can start there. I also found a fire report, but haven't read it yet,”

“So maybe you and Dean can look into that, and I’ll look into this missing couple? I mean, we’re not- we’re not really here for that, but… but if we can find anything that might help...” Sam said, his voice trailing away. Cas looked over and smiled like he was pleased with Sam for the suggestion; Dean shuffled awkwardly in his seat again.

Cas knew Sam fairly well, Dean thought, watching his slow nod of agreement, but not as well as he did himself; that tiny glint in Sam’s eyes spoke depths of teasing that completely counteracted the thoughtfulness of what he was suggesting, and quite honestly, Dean was happy at the thought of spending a few hours of their day away from any chance of hearing Sam’s pointed comments, that went straight over Cas’ head, but hit _him_ straight in the gut.

“So. How’re we gonna do this? Meet back at the motel at what… one? Give us time to, I don’t know. Compare notes. Get changed. Get ready to go interview these kids?”

“Sounds good,” Dean agreed, nodding at Sam’s suggestion, “makes sense if we split up for that as well. Get it over with,”

Out of the corner of his eye Dean caught another small smile on Cas’ face. Cas’ confidence when interviewing was growing, and every time either he or Sam showed him their own confidence in him, his shoulders did this little quiver that made it look like he was pleased with himself but trying to hide it. It was not, Dean chastised himself, cute, in any kind of way at all.

“Okay,” Sam said, stretching a fraction and nodding, “who’d you wanna interview?”

“How ‘bout we figure that out later, huh?” Dean replied. He was more interested in getting out of the diner than anything else; if he was beginning to cramp up from being sat there for so long, he didn’t like to think how Cas must be feeling.

“Okay,” Sam announced, closing the laptop lid and shoving it back into his bag, then draining his coffee and squeezing out of the booth to stand, “I’ll… guess I’ll see you later, then,”

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Sam was already gone, and the movement morphed into a long sigh.

“Sam is behaving… strangely, this morning,” Cas said after a moment, like he’d chosen the word carefully before letting it out.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed with a soft snort and a clench to his stomach, “yeah, he is, he-”

“Are you uncomfortable sharing a room with me, Dean?”

Cas’ abrupt interruption stole the breath from Dean’s lungs, catching it at just the point where he ended up coughing for it.

“What? No-”

“I would understand,” Cas continued, his eyes dropping to the edge of his now empty plate where his fingers tapped an absent rhythm, “we should return to the motel. Perhaps they have another room-”

“No,” Dean argued, immediately kicking himself for it. Because he _was_ uncomfortable with sharing a room with Cas in some ways, but how could he explain that to him without giving him the wrong idea? Or the right one, even. And besides, he didn’t _want_ Cas in another room; it felt like they never got enough time when it was just the two of them anyway. The moment he allowed _that_ thought out, Dean groaned to himself and hoped it wasn’t loud enough for Cas to hear.

“When you were outside, Sam asked me, in three different ways, if I had slept well,” Cas continued, frowning a little, “and by the third time, I think he was suggesting you had _not._ That perhaps it was… my fault, that you hadn’t,”

“No,” Dean said, a little softer, yet just as adamant, whilst mentally kicking Sam, “you don’t need to get another room, Cas. Or- I slept _fine_ , okay? Great, even. It’s just… you know. Sam. Me. We’re always… always goofing off, messing with each other and stuff,”

“I see,” Cas replied, though Dean couldn’t tell if he really did see, or not. Unless-

“Unless _you’re_ uncomfortable with it,” Dean added, blurting it out in a panic, his heart sinking at the idea, yet doing his best not to show that disappointment, “because if you _are_ , then I-”

“I’m not,” Cas assured him, offering a curious, tiny smile that Dean tried not to stare too hard at.

“Well, good,” Dean stumbled out, staring back at him for a few seconds before sliding awkwardly from his seat and standing, his eyes darting everywhere but at Cas. But his head jerked back the second Cas started moving; stiff, precise movements with a quiet groan under his breath, as he levered himself against the table to get out.

“You’re-”

“I’m fine,” Cas insisted, taking his turn at avoiding eye contact, though not hiding from Dean the tiny stretches he was taking, or the pain they caused. “As I mentioned yesterday, it is most painful when I have not moved for some time,”

“Yeah, but-”

“I told you,” Cas repeated, determined when he turned better to face him, “it is not… it is not a problem. I can still hunt-”

“Hey,” Dean protested, and look at that, Dean thought to himself in surprise, looking down at his hand out and gripping around Cas’ arm, like he’d not consciously told it to move, “I’m not asking ‘cos of _that_. I’m _asking_ , ‘cos I wanna know if I can do anything,”

Cas too dropped his eyes to Dean’s fingers, studying them for a few seconds before looking back up with a smile, and a crinkling of his eyes that Dean knew meant to expect a little teasing.

“Yes, you can,” Cas answered, solemn, and steady, “you can choose a better table for us to sit at the next time we eat together. One that is not so small. There is an idiom… with the fish?”

“Packed like sardines,” Dean smiled, patting Cas’ arm, “and yeah, agreed. Next time we’ll get a bigger table,”

“Or Sam could sit on an alternative table,” Cas suggested, stopping Dean’s heart for the look he gave him. From anyone else, he might consider that, along with the tone in Cas’ voice, flirting.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’ll work-”

“Of course,” Cas added, turning around to snatch up the tablet and his bag, a satchel that in Dean’s opinion, he’d gotten far too attached to carrying around when they weren’t interviewing; and also that it _suited_ him, “perhaps Sam is correct in his opinion that I should be _exercising more_. Perhaps that will reduce the pain that I am in,”

“Oh yeah?” Dean snorted, nodding towards the door once he’d left some money on the table, “how’d you figure that out?”

“It is not pain that is… painful,” Cas replied, frowning at his own explanation and wrapping his trenchcoat tighter around him; why he insisted on still wearing that when, a week after he’d arrived at the bunker, he and Sam had taken him shopping and bought an entire new wardrobe for him, Dean didn’t know. “It is more… I _ache_. It feels like my muscles are continually either cramping, or stiff from getting too little use,”

“Not like you’re not doing stuff, though, huh?” Dean said, nodding when Cas pointed out the direction they needed to take for the library. “You’re still… moving around, and stuff,”

“No,” Cas agreed, “I am fairly active. Perhaps I need some activity that will stretch me,”

Dean closed his eyes, pinched over them, allowed the onslaught of images _that_ put in his head, then repeated to himself that Cas was thinking about something much more innocent than where his mind had gone, like _yoga_ , maybe. Though on second thoughts, the thought of watching Cas do something like _that_ didn’t help much either. In fact-

“Do you have a headache?”

Dean forced his eyes open to find Cas looking at him in concern, shook his head in reassurance, then cleared his throat, waiting a few seconds before he could trust his voice. “No. No, just- it’s cold today, huh?”

“It is very cold,” Cas agreed, nodding to a building to their left that Dean took as being the library. Both of them gave small shudders of relief once they were inside, with Cas flexing his fingers in front of him, and Dean stopping himself from doing the same.

“So. How come you, uh… how come you don’t… You know. Sam’s not gonna- Sam won’t think you’re not up to hunting if you’re in some kind of pain, Cas,” Dean stumbled out, waving a hand towards Cas’ torso, and immediately feeling stupid for it.

“No, I imagine not,” Cas agreed, his eyes already searching for where they would need to be in the library, “however, I do not want to make him worry. I did not intend to make either of you worry; if our accommodation arrangements had been different when we arrived, you would not have had to know about it at all,”

“Yeah, well, tough,” Dean retorted, quieter, acknowledging where there were, “‘cos we’re gonna worry about you anyway. It’s what you get with family, so. Get used to it,”

Cas turned a fraction to give him a rueful smile, then nodded ahead of him. “We should sit here,”

“Here?” Dean repeated, pointing, watching as Cas began to shrug out of his trenchcoat and dropped it carelessly over the back of a chair. “Okay. Well… how ‘bout you start checking the papers and stuff and I’ll… I’ll use the library wifi and get that fire report,”

Cas smiled again in agreement, then tilted his chin at the pillar towards the end of the long table beside them, with Dean swivelling to focus on the notice stuck there. “The wifi code,”

Dean turned away to hide his own smile, still finding it funny hearing a former Angel of the Lord saying words like _emoji_ , _wifi_ , and _app store_ as though they were words from some ancient, decadent tongue.

Shrugging out of his jacket and getting settled with the tablet after taking it out of Cas’ bag - and only belatedly realising he’d done it without asking, Dean watched Cas as he began searching through the archive of newspapers. He was glad to see that, aside from a tiny amount of visible stiffness, that he wasn’t even sure was all that obvious to anyone looking more casually at him than _he_ was, Cas seemed fine; not in any major amount of pain at least. He wondered if that was because of a good night’s sleep, allowed himself a second to think _he_ may have contributed to Cas sleeping okay, then got lost in the reminder of how he’d curled up behind Cas and _held_ him as he slept, and Dean’s brain shorted out a little.

The worse thing was, Dean decided, as he tapped away at the screen to get access to the report he was looking for, was just how natural it had seemed. Wrapping himself around Cas like that had been instinctual, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think it was anything to do with _purpose_ , or two people meant to be together, or anything else like that. No, what was worrying was the way his body, without resisting it too much, did the exact things Dean had fantasised about doing so many times. Not all of them, of course, he amended, shifting in the chair and glancing down to bargain with his bodily reactions, but enough to show he’d made near muscle memories of things he’d just been thinking about doing. That didn’t bode well for a second night together; not that he’d have it any other way, of course, Dean amended with a huff to himself, despite how awkward things might get.

Cas returned to the table then, forcing Dean to clear his mind, and they worked side by side in comfortable silence, with Cas making notes on a pad he’d dragged out of his satchel, as Dean stored lines of information away in his head, bookmarking what he needed as he went.

A couple of hours passed, with their research finishing fairly quickly, but Cas taking an interest in some of the articles he’d found, and Dean smiling as he watched him reading. Before Dean could even suggest it, Cas was looking at him with an expression that he _knew_ meant, _I need coffee_ , to which he gave a brief nod to second that, then watched again as Cas stood, and diligently returned all the papers he’d used back to where he’d found them.

Back out in the street, they both huddled into their jackets, making their way towards the motel until Dean was stopped by Cas tugging on his sleeve, pointing at a bakery with a couple of empty tables in the window.

“We can take sandwiches back to the motel for lunch, take something for Sam. Have coffee _now_ ,” Cas suggested, emphasising the _coffee_ enough for Dean to snort. He made a quick call to check what Sam wanted picking up, then joined the small queue, figured out which sandwich Cas was pointing to, and watched him wander over to a corner table to wait.

“So,” he said, the moment he sat down, sliding Cas’ coffee over to him, “what’d you find out?”

Cas took an appreciative sip of his coffee and sighed, then reached for the bag at his feet and pulled the notepad out. “This month is the fifth anniversary of a travelling carnival arriving in town,” he began, pausing for another sip of coffee as he studied his own notes. “The night before the carnival was due to leave, there was a fire. The carnival owners, workers - everybody, disappeared,”

“Like some kinda magic trick?” Dean joked, shaking his head.

“It is unclear. The newspaper reports all indicated that when the fire crew arrived, no one from the carnival was to be found,”

“‘Probly just assumed new names and found work at other carnivals or something,” Dean mused, not ready to believe an entire carnival’s worth of people would just vanish into thin air. “Tryna avoid paying any fines or- or, you know. Can’t imagine repairing, or even replacing half that stuff would’ve been worth how much it would’ve cost,”

“Most likely,” Cas agreed, nodding, “the articles suggest that the carnival owners started the fire themselves, intentionally. Money laundering or some other illicit action, if these stories are to be believed,”

“Mm. I don’t know about _that_ ,” Dean replied, making grabby hands that Cas automatically knew were meant for him to pass over the tablet from his bag, “fire report says when the fire crew arrived, the House of Mirrors and that food truck were both up in flames,” Dean said as he tapped at the screen to check his bookmarks, then continued. “Says here, when they put it out, they found a bunch of candles half-melted inside - like, on the floor, on shelves; all over the place. The electrics and cabling caught fire, and the whole thing went up. Caught the food truck - full of flammables, ‘probly a tonne ‘o grease and stuff,” he added, grimacing at the thought.

A server appeared at their table then with paper bags full of sandwiches and two slices of pie; Cas’ eyes fell to their plates then raised to Dean’s own with a growing grin.

“What? I got hungry,”

“I am not complaining,” Cas promised, already picking up his fork and slicing through his slice of pie, taking a bite. Dean froze for a second then did the same, sighing around it in appreciation.

“It’s too easy,” Dean announced, taking up another forkful, “I mean, yeah; candles not being put out causes all kindsa fires, I get that. But it’s gotta be a helluva lot of candles to set cabling on fire to cause the kinda damage we saw. Or have been left a real long time,”

“If the cabling was already damaged - already exposed,” Cas suggested, “as we saw, and the newspapers indicated, the carnival was not particularly well-maintained,”

“Maybe,” Dean agreed, though still felt suspicious for it. There wasn’t much else to add though, and unless the interviews turned up anything that might help, he was half-tempted to suggest they leave. It wasn’t like they’d followed leads that turned out to be nothing before, and anyway, if Cas was still in pain, maybe a lighter workload was what he needed. Maybe they could all do with a break, Dean mused, liking the idea, then cutting it off again before he got carried away with it.

“You doing okay, Cas?” Dean asked, the question coming out of his mouth before he could stop it. Cas paused with his coffee a couple of inches from his lips, took a sip, then put the mug back down on the table with a light thud.

“I am _fine_ ,”

Dean thought back to asking Cas a similar question at the carnival the night before, and could easily remember another few occasions doing the same. Was he fussing too much, worrying when he shouldn’t be? Cas’ cautious look at him suggested the answer to that was _yes_ , but Dean didn’t feel able to stop himself. Even when rationalising it as making up for all the times he felt he could have done _more_ for Cas in the past.

“You’d- you’d tell me if anything was wrong. Wouldn’t you?”

“I would,” Cas agreed, though sounded hesitant about it, which set off alarm bells for Dean that he tried - and failed - not to show.

“You said… you said last night - when I… when I offered to listen if you wanted, you said-”

“Now is not the time,” Cas repeated stiffly as he had then, and nodded, leaving Dean presuming  _now_ was also _not the time_.

“So-”

“Is there something you are not telling _me_?” Cas interrupted, studying him then. Dean swallowed thickly, fighting back all the things he _wasn’t_ saying, and pleaded with himself not to blurt them out.

“What? No, I-”

“Because I hope that if there was a problem. With me being here, or in the bunker, or-”

“Cas,” Dean answered, cracked and quiet, forcing eye contact when he wanted to look anywhere else in shameful memory, “no, Cas. Your place is with _us_. If you - we’re - bunker’s always gonna be your home, if you want it,”

Cas continued staring, and Dean watched as his face eventually broke into a small, shy smile. “I am pleased to hear that. Although I assume,” Cas added, his eyes darting down to the table where he played with the handle of his coffee mug, “that I would be more, uh… _resourceful_ this time, were I to-”

“You don’t need to _be resourceful_ , Cas,” Dean insisted, trying to keep the pleading from his voice, the remorse from his thoughts, the bitterness from fanning even more flames of self-doubt. “You don’t- you don’t need to _go_ anywhere, okay? I’m sorry that-”

“That was a long time ago, Dean,” Cas told him, softly, full of forgiveness that even after all the time that had passed, Dean didn’t feel he completely deserved, “I also… I _assumed_ you were- both you and Sam were… had no objection to me staying,”

“‘Course we don’t _object_ , Cas; family, remember? I- _we_ want you here,” Dean retorted, hearing his own voice squeak with the meaning of his words.

“I remember,” Cas smiled, pleased, “I also remember that you were going to give me a ‘crash course in Captain America’, that is yet to happen,”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, laughing, “I _will_ , when you’re not glued to Netflix,” which was mostly true; ever since they’d set it up for Cas on his laptop back at the bunker, he seemed to always be watching one series or another, and Dean could never figure out how he found the time.

“I like to be up to date,” Cas defended, smiling harder, “I also like to know if the _spoilers_ I read are correct-”

“Again; step away from the social media,”

“It is interesting-”

“It’s _toxic-_ ”

“It is no different than you repeatedly reading the same books, listening to the same music, watching the-”

“Okay, okay,” Dean laughed in defeat, the smile on his face feeling like it might split. He liked it like this, when they were teasing each other over stupid stuff like they had nothing else to worry about in the world. He liked it a _lot_ , in fact, and that was another stray thought he tried to rein in, not thinking Cas would want to hear it.

Later than he would have liked, Dean realised then just how easily Cas had changed the subject to stop him asking questions, and kicked himself for it, knowing without blatantly forcing it, there was no easy way back; that was definitely a skill _he’d_ taught him, and was furious with himself for it.

“We should probably head back,” he said after checking his watch and glancing out the window. Cas nodded, holding his hand out for the tablet and slotting it along with his notebook back into his satchel.

The motel was thankfully only a few minutes away, with Dean convinced on their hurried walk there that the temperature had dropped further since the morning. Over sandwiches, he and Cas filled Sam in on what they’d found out, whilst Sam admitted finding not that much new himself; he shared a look with Dean that echoed Dean’s unvoiced thoughts that maybe this wasn’t a case for them.

“So. We know when the carnival came here, how the fire started,” Sam said, taking a swig from his water bottle.

“ _Apparently_ how the fire started,” Dean amended, balling up the paper from his sandwich and absently collecting Cas’ and Sam’s.

“Right,” Sam agreed, “and I read a couple of things that said a homeless guy was sleeping there, and had been for about a month, until around this time a year ago, when he got chased out by a ghost,”

Dean nodded, increasingly aware of how little they had to go on, and gestured for him to continue.

“And there’s this section in the local newspaper-”

“Weird News?” Cas asked, sounding pleased, smiling when Sam nodded. “I enjoyed reading that very much,”

“ _That’s_ what you were reading?” Dean asked, laughing, his grin helpless as Cas turned to glare at him.

“It was informative,”

“Uh…” Sam stuttered out, and Dean caught his gaze dancing between the two of them in bemusement.

“Anyway,” he prompted, waving his hand at Sam to keep talking.

“Anyway. We’ve got a report that says two years ago, also around this time, some truck driver pulled over near the carnival to, uh...”

“Use the facilities?” Dean finished for him, smirking.

“Yeah. And when he climbed back in his cab, apparently he felt like he was being watched. Said the radio kept changing like it was searching for something, and when he heard someone trying the door handle, he got spooked, and drove off,”

“We also have the teenagers who reported ghosts there the same night as the couple went missing,” Cas reminded them, frowning. Dean itched to ask him what he was frowning about.

“Right,” Sam nodded, pinching his lips together.

“So. Nothing more on this wannabe Romeo and Juliet?” Dean asked, ducking his head to look out the window and reluctant to go back outside now that they were inside and warm again. Not that they had that far to go of course, but the thought of maybe being sprawled out watching a movie for a couple of hours like they didn’t have anything better to do, sounded a much better way to spend their afternoon. It wasn’t to be, however; another quick glance at the time on his phone said they had another fifteen minutes, and then would probably have to get ready to leave.

Sam cleared his throat and stretched, then looked at his notes. “Hopefully not _exactly_ like Romeo and Juliet. But, nope. Same as we already knew; Teresa’s 15, Peggy’s 17. School reports say both look on track to graduate with four-point-ohs, or high threes at least. Teresa wants to be a doctor, Peggy a microbiologist. Both are members of various clubs. Popular kids. Lots of friends. Model students, from the sound of it,”

“Model students don’t just… run away,” Dean pointed out, secretly hoping that was all it was. The thought of coming across an unnecessary reminder that the world was brutal enough without all the demons, vampires, and everything else they fought constantly, churned his stomach, like it always did.

“Yeah, well-”

“I will be back soon,”

Dean turned in surprise to Cas’ abrupt announcement as he stood, silently heading towards the door without any explanation. “Uh-”

“I want to call Claire,” Cas added, turning slightly on his heel to address him before leaving, with Dean and Sam staring after him in silence.

“He doing okay?” Sam asked after a moment, still looking at the door for another second, before slowly turning his eyes back to Dean.

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s fine,”

“ _You_ doing okay?” Sam added, the look on his face making Dean want to make excuses to leave himself.

“‘Course,”

“Good. ‘cos if-”

“So. Think these kids’ll tell us anything useful?” Dean said, pointedly, because whatever Sam wanted to get at, he didn’t want to hear it.

“Not a clue. Worth a try though. So. What’s with Cas calling Claire?” Sam prompted, tilting his chin towards the window where they could see Cas pacing.

“They’ve been messaging a bit. _Emojis_ ,”  Dean said, with a helpless smile, “I don’t know. Think he probably just wanted to check in,”

“He doesn’t talk about it. No to _me_ , anyway,” Sam added, pointedly enough for Dean to squirm a little. “Think he’s still feeling… guilty? Jimmy and all?”

“Got nothing to feel guilty about,” Dean replied with a little force. And it was true; Cas _didn’t_ have anything to apologise about, but any insinuation that he might, had Dean on the defensive. Needlessly, he reminded himself. “‘Sides, they’re _good_ ; speak all the time now. I passed his room couple of days ago? Heard him… laughing, like, _really_ laughing. So I ducked my head round the door to check - alright, ‘cos I couldn’t _help_ looking,” he amended, raising his hands a little in defence, on hearing Sam’s disbelieving snort.

“Anyway,” Dean continued, clearing his throat, “Cas is sat on the bed, with the laptop propped up on a stack of _laundry_ he hadn’t got around to putting away yet, and his whole face’s just… I don’t, happy, or something. I ask him what’s up, he tells me Claire’s been sending him videos - he turns the laptop to me and Claire’s there on half the screen, waving at me - calling me an _old man_ \- I was… I was in my robe. It was _cold_ ,” Dean added with a huff to himself that had Sam laughing.

“What were they doing?”

“She’s got him hooked on this blog that posts voiceovers for animal videos, and I think - I _know_ , him and Claire were making up their own,”

Hearing Cas tell Claire that a raccoon wouldn’t sound as serious as she was pretending and then demonstrating what _he_ thought one should sound like, had made Dean laugh pretty hard himself; he dropped his gaze down to his lap, smiling at the memory.

“Maybe when we’re done here we can drop in?”

Sam’s suggestion brought Dean back again, immediately agreeing with it and already imagining Cas’ reaction.

“And I can… maybe I’ll phone ahead, see if I can stop at Jody’s a couple of days. You and Cas can head back to the bunker, and, I don’t know. Talk. Hang out. Whatever,” Sam added, bringing the subject back to where he wanted it; perhaps, Dean thought to himself, how _he_ should have done himself in the bakery with Cas.

“Why?” Dean said anyway, sharp and defensive again. “Nothing to talk about. We don’t need-”

“Dean,” Sam said, quiet though still enough to cut him off, “you don’t need to-”

“Should prob’ly get changed,”

Dean stood, reaching down to grab Cas’ bag where he’d left it on the floor and mumbling about being back in a few minutes, effectively ignoring Sam’s attempt to get him to talk altogether. There’d been a conversation they’d had about a month ago, where Dean’s defences had been down, and he’d admitted too much, and as he probably should have expected him to, Sam had been _watching_ him ever since. Offering to help, to listen, to _encourage_ him, even. The cold air hitting him as he closed Sam’s motel door behind him Dean pretended pushed the reminder away; even with Cas stood just a couple of feet from him, still on the phone.

Dean gestured to let Cas know he was going to their room, where he grabbed his suit, dressed quickly in the bathroom, stumbling out again minutes later to find Cas standing there already reaching for his own clothes.

“How’s Claire?” he asked, already heading towards the door so Cas knew he meant to leave again. Sam had put ideas in his head, even more things he didn’t want to be thinking about, so he needed to keep occupied.

“She is well. She says to say _hello_. Also that I am to _pass on a hug_ ,”

Dean stopped halfway across the room and grinned at that, especially the tiny amount of confusion that tilted Cas’ head a fraction. And again, despite his discomfort, as though he had no control of it, Dean found himself stepping forward for a brief, back-slapping hug, one he wouldn’t let himself lean into, and stepped out of the second they’d touched.

“There. Passed,” he said, feeling stupid, then waved towards the door again, leaving before Cas could say anything else. He walked in to see Sam shrugging into his jacket, and felt like there was nowhere he could be right then where he didn’t feel awkward. Instead, he made a point of double-checking the addresses for the interviews, studying a map he already knew, until he heard Cas walking in behind him.

“So. How’d you wanna do this?” Sam asked, nodding as Cas closed the door. “Any preference?”

“None,” Dean answered, indifferent, not even bothering to make a glib, unmeant comment about why he should be the one to interview a bunch of girls - or why Sam would be the best choice for it because of his hair. He cast a furtive glance over Cas as he came to stand beside him, for once not even pretending to himself about the reason for that change in attitude.

“I will speak to the two girls,” Cas announced, absently patting down his trenchcoat pockets in a way Dean knew meant he was double-checking for a notepad and pen. These little routines he had, Dean was aware of every one of them, every individual step. Too aware, perhaps, he scolded himself, nodding without contesting Cas’ suggestion, knowing he’d thrive on the show of confidence they gave him by doing so.

“You sure, Cas?”

Or... maybe not. Dean flinched visibly at the concern in Sam’s voice that he knew, obviously he knew was well-intended, but the way Cas’ jaw twitched ever so slightly spoke of his indignance. Dean pleaded with himself not to intervene.

“Of course. I have interviewed multiple witnesses numerous times,” Cas retorted, definitely sounding indignant, Dean thought, holding in a sigh.

“Well, yeah. Of _course_ ,” Sam said, shrugging, “I just meant… they’re _teenagers_ , Cas. They can be-”

“Sam’s just tryna say they’ll be tricky, is all,” Dean jumped in with, holding his breath as Cas turned his gaze from Sam over to him.

“They are no more difficult to interview than adults. At least; we should not _assume_ they will be more difficult,” Cas replied, arched, and chastising. Dean fought to keep a smile from his face for the expression that rippled across Sam’s.

“I-”

“I will be fine,” Cas said, dismissing him, reaching into his pocket and handing Dean their solitary room key, “the school is furthest from here of the three locations; I will leave now,” and without another word he was gone again. Dean stared after him for a second until Sam’s laugh got his attention.

“He’ll be fine,”

“Yeah. Sure he will,” Dean said, swallowing hard, “sending him to a _high school_ on his own. You know how he gets. He’s… he’s gonna get eaten alive,”

“Yeah,” Sam laughed again, agreeing, “‘cos they’re gonna take one look at him and _literally_ eat him,”

“The hell’s that s’pposed to mean?” Dean bit back, far sharper than intended.

“C’mon. He’s got that whole lost puppy thing going on-”

“Thought that was _you_?”

“But then he’s got that look about him like he might… I don’t know. Actually smite you if you piss him off,” Sam added, grinning.

“I… I mean, I _guess_ ,” Dean answered, hesitating, and pointlessly sounding disinterested.

“Girls are gonna _love_ that,” Sam concluded, that teasing glint back from earlier, leaving Dean arguing with himself that his worry for Cas hadn’t upgraded itself to jealousy.

“I-”

“I’m gonna go see this _Garrett_ , at the store,” Sam said then, clapping him on the shoulder in passing, “leaves you with pizza guy - and keeps you closer to here, in case Cas gets back earlier and wants the key to _your_ room,”

Dean watched him leave, waited for the door to click closed behind him then sank into a chair, groaning into his propped up hands. Then text Cas to tell him exactly what Sam had said about the key.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a mention, though not a direct one, of when Cas got kicked out of the bunker, in this chapter, just to give a headsup xx


	4. Chapter 4

How Sam went from being a little shit, to supportive, and then back again in the blink of an eye, Dean thought to himself as he started pacing Sam’s room, he didn’t know, but relented when acknowledging he’d contributed a good amount to it—and earned it—even, a number of times. He scowled to himself for the thought, then decided to see if Wayne would even be working in the pizza house that day, angry when realising they could have already checked that out. He took the catch off Sam’s door so it would lock behind him, scowling that Sam had forgotten to do it himself, and stepped out into the cold with a grimace.

After being told he had an hour to kill until Wayne started his shift, Dean wandered a little further along the small row of stores next to the pizza house, ducking in to a used bookstore and browsing the backs of several that he ended up buying and taking back to the motel. Sat on the corner of the bed after straightening out the covers of it, he lost himself in the first few pages of one of the books, dropping it on to the bed when he realized the time, and just how much he’d gotten engrossed.

Wayne was whistling as he tidied behind the serving counter when Dean walked in, the final note stuttering to a shrill stop as he shoved the heavy door closed behind him. An appraising pair of eyes deliberately lingered over him, and Dean fought back a groan on taking in the confident posture and cocky smile.

“What can I get you?” Wayne asked, attentive and already reaching out for a pen to take his order, though without breaking eye contact.

“It’s Wayne, right?” Dean answered, to which Wayne smiled, gave a slow nod, then smiled harder still, as he drew out his badge to introduce himself.

“Yessir,” Wayne replied, his voice deliberately catching, and purposely coy. Dean kept his face a mask, determined not to encourage him.

“Was wondering if I can ask you a few questions,”

“Well,” Wayne said, tilting his head towards the kitchen behind him, “I am working right now,”

“It’ll only take a minute,” Dean assured him, hoping that he wasn’t going to say something awful like _come back later_ , loaded with innuendo. It was the kind of flirting _he’d_ have done himself — _had_ done himself, countless times. Being on the receiving end of it was all kinds of uncomfortable when the guy had to be at least half his age. “Just wanna ask you about the abandoned carnival you were at a couple of nights ago,”

“You saw me on TV,” Wayne answered, preening. Dean resisted the urge to cover his eyes to avoid having to look at it.

“We saw—”

“How’d I look?”

“Thought you were supposed to be _working_ ?” Dean bit back, raising an eyebrow and attempting to rein the conversation in. Wayne stared back appraisingly for a few seconds then cleared his throat, casting another quick glance towards the kitchen.

“Okay,” he said, clapping his hands together, “what do you wanna know?”

“Anything,” Dean answered, shrugging, “everything. Whatever you can tell me,”

“Not much to tell,” Wayne started saying, tapping his fingers against the counter and the sound ringing out soft, “I mean. Place is haunted as hell; always has been,”

“How long’s _always_?”

“Since it got here,” Wayne answered, shrugging again and picking up his pen again, twirling it around his fingers, and Dean finding the movement just the wrong side of irritating. “Well; since it burnt down, anyways, I guess,”

“And that was—”

“Five years ago,” Wayne finished for him as Dean had expected him to. Dean watched him start twirling the pen faster, glimpse up to make sure he had his attention, and threw it up in the air with a flourish. Then watched him miss catching it, and followed the pen as it fell back to the counter with a tinny thud, and looked back up, silently daring Wayne to pick it up again.

“And how’d that happen?” Dean pushed, sensing there was more to the story than was in the report, and wanting the interview over with already.

“You like ghost stories, Agent?” Wayne asked then, brazen as anything; Dean scowled back sharply, not flinching at all, until Wayne gave a defeated little shrug, and carried on. “So. You know there was a fire started in the House of Mirrors there, right? Night before the carnival was gonna leave?”

“You’re saying it was started deliberately?” Dean asked, watching as Wayne raised his hands in defense.

“I didn’t say that at _all_ ,” Wayne denied, shaking his head, “I’m _saying_ , there was a fire,”

“Candles caught fire,” Dean prompted.

“Candles caught fire,” Wayne confirmed, nodding, reaching for the pen again until Dean cleared his throat and slowly shook his head.

“So what happened?”

“Group of us—”

“ _You_ were there?” Dean interrupted, disbelieving. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” Wayne answered, again giving Dean a once over that had him shifting in discomfort, and silently apologizing to the people he’d done the same to at that age. “And no. Obviously, I wasn’t there, I was like… twelve, I guess? But like… in case you hadn’t noticed? It’s kinda dead round here. Small ass town everyone under the age of 25 wants to escape from, and everyone over just gets _stuck_ in. So, we all know each other, hang out with the same people. Our kid brothers hang out with our friends’ kid brothers; that kinda thing,”

“Right,”

“So. _They_ ,” Wayne amended, with an exaggerated eye roll that said he thought Dean was being purposely stupid, “group snuck back in after the carnival closed. I don’t know why; guess we gotta get excitement around here when we got the chance for it. Got into the House of Mirrors, lit a bunch of candles. Started telling ghost stories, daring each other to do Bloody Mary in the mirrors; that kinda stuff,”

“Okay. And then what?”

“And then,” Wayne sighed, rolling his eyes again, clearly having lost interest in him, “one of ‘em saw something reaching for ‘em through one of the mirrors. Screamed the place down. Everyone ran out, left the candles burning. Goodbye, carnival. News next day said the carnival owner just ran off and left it; don’t know why, but no one came asking any other questions, so. Guess we— _they_ just… let people think that’s what happened. Everybody knows, though,” Wayne added then, shrugging once again.

“And that’s it?” Dean asked, thinking the story made a reasonable amount of sense, but didn’t cover everything.

“That’s it,” Wayne agreed, discreetly checking his watch. Not discreet enough for Dean not to notice, though.

“And these, uh… friends of yours. They still around here?”

“Nope. You just missed Billy, though, actually. He came back to visit his parents last weekend. Everyone else is off at college, or working somewhere,”

“And what’s this rumor about, uh, this so-called ghost returning every year?”

“It’s always there,” Wayne shrugged, “the whole time we’ve been going up there. You hear footsteps, and moaning, and… I don’t know. Just, like, walking around. Nothing much happens though. Not until—I guess the anniversary of the fire. Then it gets all kindsa weird. Like… some of the old lights spark up. Sometimes you hear music from a couple of the rides. Like whoever this ghost is? It wants our attention, or wants us gone. Like… I don’t know. It’s… louder. Knocking on things. Sometimes people say they get shoved, or chased out. I don’t know about _that_ , but. I’ve heard it,”

“And what did you _hear_?”

“You guys really investigate all that stuff?” Wayne said suddenly then, sounding amused by the idea. “Aren’t you supposed to be asking about Peggy and Teresa?”

“We’re just gathering all the information we can,” Dean fired back smoothly without a flinch.

“Right,” Wayne answered, sounding like he didn’t really believe him, “well, _yeah_ ; I’ve heard it. Just like… you know. Ghost sounds. Shuffling. Moaning. All that stuff. _Oh…_ ”

Dean saw Wayne’s eyes widen as the door creaked behind him, and the tone of that soft _oh_ had him turning his head, to find Cas stepping through the door and frowning at it as he tried to force it closed.

“Uh…” Dean stumbled out, shooting a quick smile at Cas as he came to stand at his side, then bristling immediately for seeing Wayne giving Cas an even more leering once-over than he’d received himself. Cas smiled back politely, oblivious.

“You wanna ask me some questions too? ‘Cos I don’t mind at _all_ ,” Wayne said to Cas, practically purring. Dean seethed again, outraged for a second, and ignoring the voice reminding him yet again that this was _exactly_ how he’d been at 17 —and for a good few more years besides.

“I’ll ask any questions that need asking,” he retorted, just about hiding the wince for how snappy—and possessive his words came out. He was sure it did nothing but make Wayne preen even more. “How’d you know it wasn’t some prank?”

“‘Cos,” Wayne smiled, secretive, and mostly in Cas’ direction, “it’s usually _me_ doing the pranking. I can tell the difference,”

“Okay,” Dean answered then, nodding, feeling he’d got as much as he could get, taking down the names Wayne knew anyway just in case it would lead to anything, then thanked him and turned to leave, gesturing for Cas to follow.

“You’re not staying for pizza?”

“Uh, no—”

“I could… do you a deal,” Wayne offering, continuing to talk to Dean, though his eyes kept lingering over Cas.

“Definitely not,” Dean snapped irritably, yanking the door open.

“Hey,” Wayne said then, sounding excited, “you guys were here last night, weren’t you?”

Dean held back yet another groan, though his shoulders did sag forward a little. “Yeah. Yeah, we were,”

“Were you… were you scoping me out?” Wayne called, as Dean tightened his grip around the door handle.

“Pure coincidence,” Dean fired back with a small, pained smile, ushering Cas through first; Wayne’s eyes fell deliberately to Cas’ ass as he left, Dean was sure of it—even if there was little for him to see through the trenchcoat. That smirk on Wayne’s face Dean resisted the urge to wipe off, thanking him once again in a mumble, then cursing at the door for being so slow to close behind them.

“So,” Dean said, a few paces into their walk back to the motel, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, “what’d you find out?”

“Not much,” Cas sighed, sounding disappointed. Dean turned his head a fraction to see Cas huddling into himself, and nudged an elbow against his arm. “They were exceptionally helpful, however,” Cas added, and Dean got the impression he was defending the girls. He tried not to smile for hearing it.

“Oh?”

“They informed me that it is, uh… common knowledge, that the former carnival is haunted. That this is the appeal of visiting the carnival,” Cas added, dubiously, clearly not able to imagine such a thing. The thought that Cas had never got to experience growing up like a regular teenager and doing stupid stuff like that hit Dean hard in the stomach for a second, but he forced the feeling away again.

“Yeah, ‘ts what _he_ said,”

“They also informed me, that approximately three years ago, two boys reported seeing a ghost in the House of Mirrors; in fact, that it is this… _legend_ , which has encouraged the teenagers to keep returning,”

“Yeah, that’s what I got as well,”

“Then, we have reason to stay,” Cas checked, cautious, as they came to a stop outside their motel room, and Dean dug into his pocket for the key.

“Uh… sure?”

“I did not want…” Cas started, then frowned to himself, standing back as Dean opened the door.

“Didn’t want what?” Dean asked as soon as they were inside, glad that the room was heated, but taking a few seconds to warm up before removing his jacket.

“I hope that I have not suggested we come here for nothing,” Cas said after another pause, catching Dean’s eye. “I hope that I have not… misinterpreted the need for us to be here,”

“You haven’t,” Dean assured him, shaking his head, determined they’d stay now, even if there wasn’t that much to work with. Then Cas started shrugging out of his jacket, and Dean attempted to force his eyes elsewhere, but found himself watching anyway, as Cas kicked off his shoes, wriggled his toes, then inspected them with a tilt of his head. “Even if this doesn’t come to much of anything—which, it already has done; ghost, right?—not like it’d—not like we don’t need to _check_ ,”

“I hope so,” Cas repeated, sinking down on to the edge of the bed with a huff and closing his eyes.

“How you feeling?” Dean asked, fingers twitching as he watched him. Cas raised his head slowly and gave a tired smile that left Dean wondering just how much pain, or tiredness Cas had been masking from him and Sam whilst hunting up until then. Hell, he watched Cas all the _time_ , and even _he’d_ missed that stiffness about him that was so obvious now that he knew to look for it. Guilt surged through Dean as Cas regarded him thoughtfully, leaving him shifting from foot to foot under the strength of it.

“I am _fine_ , Dean,” Cas said after a moment, obviously forcing his voice not to come out exasperated, “there is no need for you to continue asking. Or to worry—”

“Yeah, well, what’d I say about family and worrying being part of the same deal, huh?” Dean retorted, telling himself not to let the words come out angrily. Cas’ amused smile told him they hadn’t, and Dean allowed himself to relax a touch.

“Then you will forgive me if— _when_ , I do the same for you,” Cas replied with, teasing back in his tone, and his eyebrow raising to challenge him.

“That’s… that’s completely different,” Dean answered, just as teasing, and following it up with a wink that he yelled at himself for giving, but then thought it was worth if for the way Cas’ smile widened for seeing it.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas said, placatingly, finally snatching his eyes away, belatedly noticing the book beside him on the bed and picking it up to read the back.

“Yeah; I got a few,” Dean said, turning to snatch up the pile from the table and stacking them next to Cas on the bed, “think they’re all stuff you might like,”

“You bought these for me?” Cas asked, looking back up at him with a soft smile.

“Uh,” Dean stumbled out, his hand immediately to the back of his neck, because he _had_ chosen them all with Cas in mind, “yeah. I mean; maybe me and Sam’ll read ‘em when you’re done, or when you’re not reading ‘em or. You know,”

The look that Cas gave him then was so pleased, so much more thankful than it needed to be for a few second-hand books, that Dean was clearing his throat and looking away from it, making himself busy with his back turned.

“Thank you,”

“No problem,” Dean answered without looking at him, picking up his clothes from earlier and heading towards the bathroom. He stopped in the doorway and pivoted back, clearing his throat. “Sam should be back soon,” he said, with a tight smile, “think about what you wanna eat tonight,” and then locked himself away, losing himself in the solitude of the shower, and cursing at himself for he wasn’t sure what.

* * *

As he dried himself off, Dean heard Sam come in, tell Cas he’d got nothing new from Garrett, then announce he was going for a run. Dean shivered at the thought, dressing quickly as though to combat the outside cold.

Cas was still sat in the same position when he came back out again, his brow furrowed slightly as he read, occasionally sitting straighter as though stretching out his back. He watched as Cas nodded to himself, then stroked his finger over the page and came to a stop about halfway down.

“I will finish this chapter, and then I will take a walk,” Cas told him, lifting his head to look at Dean as he wandered towards him across the room.

“You sure?” Dean asked with a doubtful look over to the window. “Gonna be even colder now,”

“I know,” Cas agreed, “I think it would be beneficial,”

“In these?” Dean asked, nudging against the discarded boots that had given Cas blisters.

“I have others in my bag,”

“You… you want me to come with?” Dean offered, wanting to keep Cas company, yet really not enjoying the idea of going back out in the cold. They’d head out for food later, of course, but he didn’t relish the idea for anything else. Cas smiled at him as though reading his mind, slowly shaking his head.

“Thank you, but no. I will not be long,” he said, and with that Cas went back to his place on the page, continuing to read.

Now stuck for something to do, Dean patted at the discarded satchel by Cas’ side, which Cas waved a hand over, inviting him to take it. Dragging the tablet out, Dean first went back over to the table to snatch up the book he’d been reading earlier, presuming Cas must have returned it there, then walked around the other side of the bed and sank down on it, stretching his legs out and wriggling back until comfortable against the headboard.

Scrolling through the news on the tablet, Dean frowned to see no new information on the missing girls, gave a half-hearted look through other stories before pushing the tablet from his lap onto the bed, and opened the book. He only got through a couple of paragraphs before Cas was standing and stretching, and Dean watched the way he moved, checking for signs of discomfort, as well as letting his eyes linger far longer than he thought he should.

Cas grabbed the jeans and t-shirt he’d worn earlier, and Dean approved of seeing him loop a thick sweater over his arm to put on as well, then continued watching as he walked towards the bathroom.

“Know what you wanna eat yet, Cas?” he asked, the moment Cas was back in the room with him.

“I have no preference,” he replied, as he bent to pull a pair of running shoes from his bag, then sat on the edge of the bed to pull them on, without showing more than residual stillness as he tied the laces.

“How, uh… how long you think you’ll be?” Dean asked, groaning to himself for the feeling he was monitoring Cas’ every move.

“Not long,” Cas smiled, surprising Dean by then pulling out a jacket from his bag as well; it would explain the weight of the thing when he’d taken it out of the trunk when they’d arrived, Dean huffed to himself, wondering how he’d managed to cram so much stuff in with barely any creases. But that thought was dismissed immediately in favour of noticing the jacket itself, this one the navy blue fleece he’d half-chosen for Cas himself. Watching Cas shrug into then do it up left Dean swallowing, reminded of just how good it looked on him. “Perhaps half an hour. An hour at maximum,”

“‘K,” Dean agreed, pretending to go back to his book. Cas mumbled a quiet goodbye, and Dean didn’t look up again until he heard the door click closed. When he did, he stared at the door in silence then dropped his head back against the headboard frame and sighed up towards the ceiling, closing his eyes.

This was pathetic, he told himself, scowling through closed eyelids, though that would do little to help. From the moment Cas had walked through the door of the bunker those three months ago, Dean had felt like he was _waiting_. For Cas to walk straight back out again. For Cas to question why he watched him the way he did. For Cas to —on hopeful days, that was, Dean groaned to himself— _show_ something, any kind of sign that there was _interest_ there. And none of these things had happened at all, leaving Dean constantly feeling on edge.

What confused matters further were all these _moments_ between them. They’d be borderline flirting one moment, teasing the next, glaring each other down or pulling away from one another without explanation on another occasion, and on others still, just be _normal_ ; two best friends talking about anything and nothing, just going about their days. And each and every time that Dean fooled himself into believing Cas was really _looking_ at him, wanting to get closer, nothing happened at all, leaving Dean to keep a check on his disappointment, slip on the mask that said everything was as he wanted it to be, when it was anything but.

Dean couldn’t help the feeling that he’d been _rejected_ by Cas, and he didn’t even know if that was a fair way to feel; just because _he_ had sat on these feelings he’d had for Cas for reasons he constantly argued with himself about, that didn’t mean those feelings were ever going to be returned, or had even ever been felt in the first place. And with subtlety not his strongest point, as well as attempting to keep those feelings in check, sometimes he just couldn’t help the way he curled himself around Cas —figuratively speaking—until the previous night, Dean thought to himself, laughing coldly for it.

Abandoning the book to his side as well, Dean wriggled down the bed a little, going over and over the same few thoughts until he couldn’t think of anything anymore, and fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The bed dipping beside him woke Dean up, disoriented for a second before his eyes focussed on Cas stretched out beside him, and lifting his head just enough to receive a soft smile as Cas looked down. In his sleep, Dean had rolled on to his side, the book and tablet nestled in the gap of his stomach and knees where he’d curled up, though taking up so much room, that Cas was sat practically on the edge of his side of the bed. Shifting back a little, Dean got the confirmation of just how close Cas was to falling, with one leg stretched out along the mattress and the other on the floor, his foot braced there to keep him in place.

“Scoot over,” Dean mumbled out thickly, patting the gap between them as he hoisted himself up, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes for a second then stretched with a yawn, wriggling back against the headboard and grabbing up the tablet and book. Cas smiled in thanks and moved over enough so that he could stretch both legs out; close enough that he jostled along Dean’s side as he got comfortable. Dean said, and did, nothing to object.

“Good walk?” he asked after a moment, opening his book again and searching for the place he’d left off.

“Yes. You were correct; it is much colder. Perhaps we could eat here?”

Dean smiled in agreement the moment Cas lifted his head to look at him. “Sounds good. We’ll order something,”

“That is, if Sam agrees,” Cas added.

“We find some place with a big enough menu to order from so he can find some rabbit food, he won’t care,” to which Cas nodded, then smiled back.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched Cas open his own book and begin reading without saying another word; comfortable silence in the library earlier had been one thing, but laid there together in their room? Dean didn’t know how to feel more awkward.

“So. Good book?” he asked, nodding towards where it was curled up in Cas’ lap.

“So far, yes,” Cas replied, and Dean didn’t know whether to take that as dismissal because he wanted to keep reading and be left alone. He nodded to himself and half-heartedly read another paragraph before he heard Cas add, “and yours?”

“Uh… yeah. Not bad,” Dean said, lifting his head and giving a small half-smile, “I mean, it’s not Vonnegut, but—”

“There are other authors, Dean,” Cas teased, smiling hard at him.

“Never said there weren’t,” Dean retorted, “not reading him _now_ , am I?” he added, waving his book. Cas’ eyes tracked the movement then shifted back to Dean’s own.

“There is nothing wrong with having favorites,”

“But you just mocked me for—”

“I did no such thing,” Cas laughed, bumping their shoulders together then turning back to his page. Dean watched him for a second, taking in the smug curve of his smile, and fought to find a suitable retort, but came up empty.

This was the problem, Dean thought, the back and forth, the constant not being able to judge Cas’ mood. But then Dean scolded himself for it, because it felt like he was putting all the onus on Cas to behave a certain way, when really all the difficulty they were having was not shared difficulty at all—was not anything beyond what he’d been going over and constructing in his own head, for far too long.

“I like this,” Cas said, absently, a few minutes later, when Dean had forced his eyes back to his book, and he’d made it to the end of the page; even had the edge of it pinched between his fingers ready to turn over.

“What?”

“This,” Cas said, emphasizing it with a nudge of his arm against Dean’s, “we are sat together, reading, with no real sense of urgency to be doing anything else. Of course, I know we have the case, but—”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, smiling at both of things Cas was saying.

“But for now, this is perfect. Simple. I like it,” Cas said, decisively, turning again to smile. Dean fought with himself to look way, to stop being so obvious, but couldn’t help staring back.

“Yeah. Me too, Cas,” he answered, softer, and for a moment the look in Cas’ eye Dean would swear _meant_ something. But he couldn’t chance it, couldn’t be sure of anything, so instead blurted out, “I mean, it could do with a little background music,”

“And it would be perfect if there was coffee,” Cas added without hesitating. Dean felt himself grinning harder still, and wasn’t that ridiculous; it wasn’t exactly the most profound of things to want. But then they kept staring, and at times like that, he thought Cas was daring him to do something, to take some kind of action.

Dean looked away, turned the page of his book, and carried on reading, cursing himself the entire time.

That silence between them grew less awkward as they turned back into their books. Dean couldn’t deny himself continually sneaking furtive glances at Cas, and he might have paid far more attention than was necessary to the length of warmth up his side coming from Cas, but overall, he kept quiet. Reining in that constant whispering in his head repeating all of his fears, doubts, and shortcomings, until they were little more than a crackling sound that he had years of experience in tuning out.

* * *

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If episode 9 x 03 upset you, please see the notes at the end since something that happens in it gets mentioned.

By the time Sam arrived, still with a towel rubbing through his hair as he stood at the foot of their bed, Dean and Cas were practically leaning into one another. It was a queen-sized bed, Dean defended himself in his head, torn between pulling away and avoiding Sam’s teasing but possibly offending Cas, or staying put, where actually, he was pretty comfortable.

“Good run?” Dean asked, thumb between the pages of the book as he looked up at Sam.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, turning around and obviously looking for a chair, his eyes coming to a stop with Dean and Cas’ suits folded over the back of it, “Garrett’s foster parents told me there was a track. You guys only got one chair in here?”

Cas stood immediately without saying a word - far more nimbly than he did when it was just the two of them, Dean noted to himself yet again - putting his book face down on the bed, glancing over at Dean’s, then stooping for his satchel, tearing a page out of his notebook then ripping that and handing half to Dean, slotting his own half inside his book so Dean knew he meant to use it as a bookmark.

Cas then reached for the clothes on the back of the chair, looking doubtfully around the room for something to hang them on.

“It’s fine, Cas,” Sam said as he waved his hand, “leave them there,” and perched on the end of the bed, shoving at Dean’s feet to shift them so he’d have more room.

“So Garrett didn’t have much, huh?” Dean asked, tucking one leg under him and the other dropping to the floor. He watched Cas sit carefully on his side of the bed practically in mirror, then dragged his eyes back to Sam, pretending he hadn’t seen Cas wince when he sat down.

“Nope,” Sam sighed, shaking his head, “kid was… I guess shy. Barely had a thing to say for himself, aside from the carnival ghost thing all the kids know about,”

“So how come you were so long?” Dean said, belatedly realising Sam had been gone hours.

“Parents kept me talking. Just repeating stuff about Peggy and Teresa, mostly,”

“Nothing new?”

“Nothing new,” Sam confirmed, his lips pinching together in a grimace, “although the homeless guy came up again. Guy sleeping rough there?”

“What’d they say?”

“Just that he was there. Apparently saw this ghost. Worth talking to tomorrow,” Sam shrugged, running the towel through his hair again, then dropping it to the floor. Dean watched the movement without comment, but Sam must have caught the way his jaw clenched because he sighed, stooped to pick the towel back up, then draped it over the edge of the table, pausing to look at the books there, then sat back down.

“So we should probably extend the rooms,” Dean said, wondering to himself if Cas would seize the opportunity to get an additional one of his own.

“Already did, for another two nights,” Sam told him, smiling, “first thing I did when I got back from looking around a bit. I guess by then we’d have figured out what we wanna do next. Hopefully, anyway,”

Dean nodded his thanks, relieved he wouldn’t have to make any decisions or suggestions about their arrangements himself.

“Do we know where to find this... homeless man, currently?” Cas asked, and Dean’s stomach dropped for the tone in his voice. They hadn’t really seen Cas when he’d been homeless, because by the time they’d found him at April’s, he’d already cleaned up; Dean shoved away the mental image of _how_ they’d found him the instant it dared show itself.

Once, in the same, flat tone he was using just then, Cas had told Dean that he’d experienced being homeless, and that he’d slept at the back of the Gas N Sip for a while, because he’d had nowhere else to go. And Dean had never been able to get the thought of those things out of his head, sometimes laying awake at night fantasising about all the ways he could have prevented either from happening if he’d just made different decisions; any slight reminder of it had Dean seething at himself for it.

“There’s a house - I guess a small shelter run by the church here,” Sam answered, shaking Dean from his slipping mood, “guess we can try there in the morning, see if they know him - or where we might find him,”

“So then,” Dean said, shifting a little, “I guess we speak to him, then go back to the carnival - in daylight. I mean, either way, if he’s got anything good to tell us or not, can’t hurt to take another look; didn't exactly stay too long the other night,”

Sam shrugged in answer, and stretched his arms up over his head, yawning. “So, we gonna eat?”

“Yeah. Thinking maybe we could order in,” Dean replied, tilting his chin towards Cas.

“It was only a suggestion,” Cas added, looking between them hesitantly, “if you don’t want to-”

“No, it’s good,” Sam said, smiling at Cas, “I’ll- uh… let’s order, and I’ll go grab the chairs from my room; don’t know why I got two when you guys only have one,”

As Sam pulled up the menu from a local takeout on his phone, and Cas shifted up the bed to peer over his shoulder to look at the options, Dean did his best to tidy up the room. It wasn’t exactly messy, but with no furniture for them to store anything, he made hasty work of putting as much as he could back into his own bag, piling Cas’ stuff on top of his, then stacking the pile of books he’d bought down beside it.

Waving away any offers of help, Dean snatched up Sam’s key from the bed, letting himself in to his room and hanging up his wet towel, straightening it out over the bathroom door with a tug and grimace. With a quick glance around, he then stacked up the chairs, and returned them to his and Cas’ room, arranging them around the table, pleased to see it was a decent enough size for the three of them to huddle round when their food arrived.

“What’d you go for?” he asked Cas then, slumping down on the end of the bed beside him, tilting his head towards Sam’s phone.

“Double cheeseburger with bacon,” he answered, absently patting his stomach.

“Sounds good,” Dean agreed, nodding at Sam, “order me one of those-”

“Fries,” Cas continued, then stared at Sam, and added, with a slightly disdainful tone, “and, a salad,”

Dean looked between the two of them with narrowed eyes, suspecting the salad had been added under duress - not that Cas didn’t like salads. But Sam had been attempting to widen Cas’ palate in a very different way than Dean had with home cooking; by trying to convince him to order _healthier_ things when they were out, which Cas did, though made sure Sam knew he wasn’t overly happy about it.

“I’ll take some fries too,” Dean said, still looking at Cas for another second then turning to look at Sam. “Lemme guess; you’ve ordered salad with a side of salad?”

“Chicken stir fry,” Sam answered, not even bothering to look up from his phone, scrolling through their order.

Dean tapped the back of his hand against Cas’ stomach. “Hey. Share a side of onion rings?”

Cas grinned in answer, and Sam chose then to look up and between them in slight exasperation, but then did as asked and added a portion.

“I ordered some beer too,” Sam added, “and some juice,” to which Dean first nodded, then rolled his eyes overdramatically, when Sam continued with, “so don’t you be spilling any,”

“It was like, one time,” Dean protested, laughing as Sam mock-glared at him, then wrapped his hand around the edge of the table and shook it.

“Can’t blame the table,” Sam pointed out, pressing it a little firmer to prove it wasn’t moving.

“You’re seriously holding a _grudge_ after how many years now?”

“I spent _hours_ writing that thing,”

“And how many times did I apologise?” Dean countered, leaning forward to grip the table himself when Sam kept rocking it.

“Got hand cramp,” Sam added in mock-dejection, loosening his hold on the table then squeezing his fingers into a fist a couple of times and pretending to pout.

Dean felt the silent question beside him and turned to see Cas, looking between them in curious bemusement.

“I might’ve… _accidentally_ … knocked a glass of juice over an assignment-”

“That’d I’d worked on for _hours_ -”

“When you were _thirteen_ -”

“That was due the next morning,” Sam added, turning on the exact same look he’d used on him at the time. “Had to stay up half the night rewriting it,”

“You’re forgetting the part where I tripped over your bag you’d left in the middle of the floor, and _that’s_ why I knocked into the table in the first place-”

“It wasn’t the middle of the floor, it was right by the table-”

“Like a mile out. And I was bringing you _food_ \- that you bitched and moaned about anyway, and _left_ , then ate hours later _still_ giving me hell for it being _too chewy_ ,” and Dean left out the part that he’d spent the very last of the money their dad had left them, so he’d told Sam he’d already eaten when he’d not had anything since breakfast, because he didn’t know how many more days they’d have to wait until John came back. He hadn't been kept awake by Sam's repeated grumbling at having to rewrite his assignment; the gnawing at his stomach was doing that all by itself.

Cas continued to look between them, and Dean would swear it was in affection.

“And you, Dean?” he asked, nudging into his side. “Were you also completing homework?”

“Yeah, right,” Dean snorted, shaking his head, “didn’t see the point. Dad had that look about him. Got all twitchy. Knew we’d be moving on in a few days,”

“We hadn’t _seen_ him in days,” Sam pointed out, “how could you know that?”

“‘Cos,”

“And your father was where?” Cas asked, his tone shifting entirely, his expression morphing straight from affection to quietly seething.

“On a hunt,” Dean shrugged, flinching as Sam let out a cold laugh.

“Yeah, right,” he said, raising an eyebrow that Dean knew without even needing to ask meant, _I can’t believe you’re still defending him_ , “that’s why when he showed up two days later, he came staggering in slurring, and you had to help him to bed, ‘cos he was too drunk even to take his jacket and boots off first?”

Cas’ expression became livid, and Dean tensed for another outburst, but as he continued watching, Cas closed his eyes like he was bargaining with himself to calm down, then snapped them open again, regarding him in silence.

“Anyway-” Dean began, hoping to stave of an awkward conversation.

“Tell me more,” Cas interrupted, his eyes narrowing a touch.

“More?” Sam repeated. Cas’ eyes didn’t leave Dean’s.

“Yes. More. Not about your _father_ ,” he added, spitting out the word as though it was rancid in his mouth. “I would like to hear more about you - both of you, as children,”

“...like what?” Dean asked, cautious, not wanting to have to talk about things that he’d spent such a long time pretending never happened.

“Good things, Dean. The things that you enjoyed. You told me about Sam and the bumper cars at the carnival,”

“He tell you he impressed the guy at the shooting range so much there, that he asked Dean to stick around, so he could cheat people out of their money by going up against a _kid_?” Sam smiled, teasing but with a touch of pride in his voice as well.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed with a laugh, “‘cos that’s a great story. Like how when this dude figured out what we were doing about an hour later, he tried to kick my ass for it,”

“Did he hurt you?” Cas asked, soft, though determined, as though he thought he could go back in time and do something it.

“Stall guy pulled a semi on him from under the counter,” Dean said, shaking his head, “like an actual, real loaded one. Split some cash with me, told me to get outta there,”

“I got guts ache from eating so much cotton candy afterwards,” Sam smiled to himself, his eyes focused down on the table.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “‘probly ‘cos we’d eaten nothing but boxed mac ‘n cheese for three days straight, and your stomach didn’t know what to do with it,” then winced to himself for it. Sure enough, anger flashed across Cas’ face once again, and Dean’s eyes fell to his lap, though still watching out of the corner of his eye as Cas’ fists squeezed knuckle-white.

“Bobby made us lightsabers,” Sam said, blurting it out as though he knew how badly Dean wanted to change the subject. Dean looked up in thanks to see a tiny smile playing around Sam's lips in answer.

“Lightsabers?” Cas repeated, smiling a little as he looked between the two of them.

“Yeah, _lightsabers_ ,” Dean repeated, nudging against him, “don’t pretend you-”

“I know what a lightsaber is,” Cas assured him, raising a hand and knocking his forearm against Dean’s.

“He made ‘em a couple times, actually,” Sam added, this time smiling like he was happy in the memory of it, “first time, it was just like… sticks painted blue and green,”

“Sam tried to smash me over the head with his,” Dean said, giving him a pointed look. Sam shrugged, grinning back. “And then he… I guess he just got a bunch of stuff from around the yard. Spray painted some flashlights, stuck ‘em all altogether. Lasted a whole two days ‘fore we broke them as well,”

“He even… did the dialogue with us this one time,” Sam continued, still smiling, “I remember-”

“Sam got pretty sick one time,” Dean interrupted, nodding towards him, already knowing what he was thinking, “like… I didn’t even know it was possible to have so much… _gunk_ … come outta one kid,”

“I had a chest infection,” Sam retorted, “but yeah; it was - _I_ was, pretty gross. Hacking up and coughing everywhere,”

“And like… when Sam was really little, or when - sometimes he freaked out a bit when we got to a new motel? I used to… I mean I sang sometimes, but-”

“Dean used to tell me stories,” Sam added for him, taking his turn to be the one giving Dean an affectionate look, “only, they weren’t like… fairytales, or anything like that. He’d make up stuff about dragons, or… I don’t know. Monsters and stuff, and how to kill ‘em. Or he’d repeat stuff from cartoons or shows, or movies we liked, ‘til I slept,”

“Sam was pretty bad that time,” Dean said as he shifted the story back, his lips pinching together unconsciously at the reminder of just how sick Sam had been, and himself being so thoroughly grateful that Sam had gotten sick when they were at Bobby’s, and not when they were alone in some random motel, “and I… didn’t matter what I tried, I couldn’t… it wasn’t enough,”

“I was a brat about it,” Sam said, wincing himself, “and I don’t know how it happened, but Dean was sat on one side of the bed, and Bobby came and wedged on the other, and I’m laid there, and they’re just… back and forthing it. Line for line, doing all these scenes from Star Wars,”

“Bobby even did the whole ‘ _Luke! Luke! It's a trap!_ ’ thing, and I-” Dean paused, laughing at himself, then waving his hand towards Sam again, “ _we_ lost it. Like, crying with laughter. Sam laughed so hard, he had this coughing fit; seriously thought he was gonna choke, or cough up a lung or something. We had to haul him up and talk him through breathing air back into his lungs, it was so bad,”

Sam laughed hard, his shoulders rocking with the mirth. “And I was crying ‘cos I was laughing so hard, and it hurt, and I couldn’t breathe, but it was so funny. And I had... snot running down my face-”

“Farted so loud, Bobby leapt up, thought the bed frame cracked,” Dean added, wiping his own eyes at the memory. Cas’ face was a picture of pleased and confused, and that just seemed to add to how funny it was remembering it.

“Anyway,” Sam said when they’d calmed, clearing his throat and still smiling wistfully, “I was… exhausted. Fell straight to sleep about five minutes after,”

“Stank the place out farting in your sleep,” Dean added, grimacing at him though still smiling through it, remembering the relief of seeing Sam finally rest.

“Not my fault Bobby made chili ‘to fight the bugs off’,” Sam retorted, raising his hands in defence. Cas continued looking between him and Dean with a soft look in his eyes that had Dean’s stomach flipping.

And that proved a catalyst. From that look, Dean found himself offering up all kinds of memories of his and Sam’s childhood, all the good parts about it that he’d clung on to, but had little time to dwell on for all the other stuff that had happened. And it was a reward, a challenge even, he found, seeing the way Cas’ face lit up, or when he actually laughed along with what he and Sam were telling him, that _delight_ there dancing in his eyes encouraging Dean to think harder, find even more good things to share.

They talked through dinner and beyond it, and Dean convinced himself he wasn’t imagining it that Cas shuffled his chair a little closer, with Cas actually wrapping his hand around Dean’s thigh to steady himself when he bent over to snag up a stray fry that he managed to drop on the floor. Dean caught himself wistfully wishing things could always be like that, that they could be so easy, and comfortable with each other, that there was more to the possibility of them than what they already had. But then corrected himself for it, straightening himself up a little; though never pulling away from Cas like he might have done in the past. A couple of times, Dean caught Sam watching him, alternating between a secret smile and a pitying look, before his face morphed in laughter, or back to neutral, never holding long enough for Dean to have reason to comment on it.

Cas shared stories too, told carefully and haltingly as he did his best to retell his experiences as an angel, and even a couple from his time working at the Gas N Sip that left Dean dealing with some mixed emotions. Cas seemed happy for telling them though, so he didn’t say anything, just silently stored the information away for later in case it proved important. And in truth, because he was fascinated. Every little gesture of Cas revealing his history to them had Dean intrigued, and he was all but cupping his head in his palm and leaning forward to _really_ listen when Cas talked. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sam watching him increasingly more, but chose to ignore it, not wanting to miss a single word that Cas was saying.

When Cas failed to disguise his yawning for a second time, Dean made eye contact with Sam, who gave a tiny nod, and began talking about going to bed himself. The three of them made quick work of tidying up, and then Sam packed up the stacked chairs from his room, shaking them a little for Dean to know to balance their bag of trash on top of them so he could drop it in the can outside. They took another minute to set a time for meeting in the morning, then Dean was closing the door behind him, shivering against the blast of cold air rushing into the room, and turning to find Cas sagging on to the end of the bed.

“You doing okay?” he found himself asking; Cas raised his head to smile at him, tired but happy, and gave one single nod, then lifted his hand to cover his mouth as he yawned yet again.

“Yes. I have enjoyed this evening,”

“Yeah,” Dean answered, a slight squeak to his voice, “me too, Cas,”

“It is… good. To hear of things that have made you happy,” Cas added, freezing Dean where he stood by holding his eye contact, and leaving Dean twitching on the spot.

“Uh… yeah,” Dean agreed, hand up and to his neck as he wrenched his eyes elsewhere, “yeah. It _is_. It’s also kinda awesome hearing ‘bout… you know, some of the stuff _you’ve_ done,”

Dean turned to catch Cas’ smile of thanks, then nodded his head towards the door, anxious to change the subject in case he started asking, or saying too much. “Freezing out there now,”

“It is,” Cas nodded, his own eyes turning in the same direction, “I hope that the man we want to interview tomorrow - the homeless man. I hope he has somewhere warm to sleep this evening,”

Those happy feelings that had left Dean feeling lighter for so much of the evening disappeared immediately, crashing him back to the present. “Yeah. Yeah, me too,”

“It is… unimaginable to me now, that… that it is possible to be so very cold, that you can’t… you cannot sleep. You cannot _think_ , of _anything_ , but what it is to be cold. Add to that hunger, and I…” and Cas let out a long, drawn out sigh, “it is… I hope that he has somewhere to sleep tonight,”

Dean watched as Cas’ shoulders slumped a little, then as he forced himself to his feet, the stiffness that he’d hidden from Sam on show again, but thankfully not seeming to be too uncomfortable. Dean nodded for him to use the bathroom first, using the time waiting to plug his phone in to charge, and to double check he’d locked the door.

He couldn’t shake the image though, of Cas, huddled in a doorway freezing somewhere, or sat in the pouring rain, with nowhere to go, and nothing to eat; his heart felt heavy for it, but also fluttery at the same time. Perhaps that was what guided him to squeeze Cas’ arm in passing when he took his own turn in the bathroom, to grip it there a little longer than he’d meant to and pulling Cas to a confused stop, then climbed into bed without hesitation on his return.

“Can- can I ask you something, Cas?” he said, once they’d settled next to each other, both on their backs, with the covers tucked up under their chins, blocking out any residual cold.

Cas hummed in agreement, and Dean steeled himself for the words he’d been rehearsing for the past few minutes. All day if he was truthful with himself, since the idea had snuck into his head much earlier.

“Did you… when, uh. When you were coming to the bunker-”

“Which time?” Cas asked, moving as though still trying to get comfortable. Dean focussed on the sound of the sheets shifting and tried to find a little courage.

“When… when you _fell_. When you… when you were _first_ human, and-”

“When I was homeless?” Cas finished for him, understanding.

“Yeah…”

“What do you want to know?”

Cas’ answer was guarded, cooler than a moment before, and Dean flinched for it, hating that he’d put him on the defensive.

“What… were you okay? No,” Dean amended immediately, his hand out to the side awkwardly gripping around his hip, sure that he saw Cas lift his head to look down at the gesture even though the room was dark - and he wouldn’t be able to see it through the covers. “I mean… what’d you do? Where’d- where’d you go? Did you sleep? I mean I know you musta needed to sleep-”

“I… walked,” Cas said, slow, and considered, “I… walked until I realised I was hungry. I had a little money and I… ate, when I could. The homeless people that I met, they were generous; far more generous than some I have known who have… wealth beyond anyone can imagine. They taught me, and I… I found food in a dumpster. I visited a church. Slept in doorways. An abandoned bus. A shelter if I could, and I… I existed, Dean. _Learned_. I… did what I could, to… to keep going,”

Dean’s heart threatened to alert Cas to the alarm he was feeling, the thrumming of it so hard, it seemed to steal the air from his lungs with every beat. His throat caught, and his eyes pricked, threatening tears; Dean was thankful Cas couldn’t see how badly he was affected by the truth of it.

“Why do you ask?” Cas prompted when Dean couldn’t find any words to answer with. Dean slid his hand from Cas’ side, fumbled against the sheets until he found Cas’ hand, and laced them together, squeezing, hoping Cas wouldn’t notice the tremble there.

“And at the Gas N Sip,” he prompted, squeezing again, “you… you slept in the back, right?”

“I did,” Cas confirmed, giving a tentative, confused squeeze back of his own, “though that was better. It was warm. Dry; two things I had… never thought to consider before I fell,”

Dean closed his eyes in the dark, willing himself to keep calm.

“Dean-”

“And this time,” Dean pressed on, squeezing again, hearing his voice giving away just how much he was struggling, “this time. How long were you… did you… what happened, Cas? Before you got to us, I mean,” he amended, because on the few occasions they’d asked Cas how he’d fallen, all he’d told them was that _it was time_ , and had closed any other talk of it off.

“I was fine, Dean. I had cash, and the card you gave me. I… had already experienced what to do, so I-”

“Please don’t tell me you had to sleep rough again,” Dean pleaded, his stomach clenching painfully at the thought.

“No, I… when I fell, I was quite… disoriented. But I was… I found a motel, slept so long, that the next morning the receptionist came into my room, and asked me to leave,” Cas said, sounding as though he was trying to make a joke of it.

“And then what?”

“Then I felt _much_ more disoriented,” Cas laughed drily, and Dean’s stomach jolted again, “but I… bought something to eat. Discovered where I was. Made plans to get to you- to the bunker; did you know, Dean, that the bus networks here are… incredibly disjointed? I admit; I read the map wrong, on two occasions, which did not help. Which is why it took me four days to get to you, when I had estimated it should only have taken one. Two at most,”

“Why didn’t you call me? Us?” Dean asked, fighting the urge to roll over and face him with the question. “I woulda come got you, anywhere you was,”

“My phone was out of battery. I broke the cable so I couldn’t charge it. I should have bought another, but I thought… I thought I would have arrived much earlier than I in fact did,”

Dean scrunched his eyes up tighter, fought back a few retorts that were kneejerk accusations borne entirely out of worrying, and sighed out hard, squeezing Cas’ hand a final time, then dropping it back against the bed. “Roll over,”

“Dean?”

“On your side. C’mon; roll over, Cas,”

Cas hesitated for a second, and Dean wondered if he was debating which side he meant, but then turned away from him as he’d hoped he would do. The second he stopped moving, Dean was shuffling up behind and fitting against him, snagging his hand to press against his stomach and tangling his fingers there, and tucking his knees in firmly behind the backs of Cas’, ignoring the protests in his head warning him not to do any of the things he’d just done.

“Sleep,” he gruffed out, not trusting himself to say anything different. Cas held perfectly still for a couple of seconds then allowed himself to settle more comfortably in Dean’s arms, stretching out against the length of him and mumbling a slightly bewildered _goodnight_ , that Dean squeezed his fingers again to, then ordered himself to close his eyes.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What April did is very briefly referred to, and Cas talks about being homeless


	6. Chapter 6

When morning arrived, Dean woke slow, and leisurely, his nose pressing in to the back of Cas’ head as he gave an unconscious squeeze around his waist, before he could wake himself enough to realize what he was doing. With a groan that never quite made it past his lips, Dean allowed himself one final second pressed up against him before pulling back just enough to give Cas space. Cas huffed in his sleep, wriggling and following Dean as he moved; Dean smiled at the gesture, then more firmly told himself to stop.

As Cas continued sleeping, Dean listened to the rain, grimacing for the thought of being out in it for just how heavy it sounded. The slight draught hitting his neck where the covers had slipped in the night told him it was still cold, and it took all the fight in him not to squeeze Cas tighter and burrow back down into his warmth.

A gruff mumble later, and Cas was stirring. Dean froze for a second as he listened to him wake himself up, then smiled as Cas let out a soft moan, as though he really didn’t want to move. “Is it time to get up?” he groused out, sluggish, turning his head more into the pillow and nuzzling into it.

“Soon. Not yet though,” Dean assured him, overthinking it then loosely squeezing his arm around him again, smiling as Cas stretched up against him in answer.

“This is… pleasant,” Cas settled on after a moment, sounding surprised, then gave a quick jerked back press against him to emphasize his statement, that had Dean smiling to himself all over again.

“What?”

“ _This_ ,” Cas said again, giving a firmer wriggle that left Dean snorting.

“Figures,” Dean smiled, very definitely into his hair this time.

“...what does?”

“You. Being all… I don’t know. Liking being warm, cozy and stuff,” Dean said, grimacing a little at his choice of words.

“I see,” Cas, sounding like he meant the exact opposite.

“I mean,” Dean tried again, “you’re an angel,”

“Was,” Cas corrected, “ _was_ an angel,”

“Okay, _was_ ,” Dean agreed, “but you gotta… gotta see it from where I’m looking,”

“Where _are_ you looking?”

“Cas,” Dean laughed, pressing closer, “telling me you’ve never noticed all those angel statues in churchyards and stuff? How’m I not s’pposed to find it funny _having_ one of those _statues_ laid here with me, stealing half the covers?” and in truth, it _had_ sounded much funnier in his own head than when he’d said it out loud, but still.

“That would be… unconventional,” Cas answered, sounding even more bewildered. Maybe it was just too early for him to try and decipher Dean’s attempt at humor when he didn’t appear to have much control over the stuff coming out of his mouth.

“Anyway,” Dean added, rolling back to unplug his phone and glance at the time there on the screen, “guess we’d… better move sometime soon,”

“...five more minutes,”

Dean couldn’t stop himself smiling at Cas’ request and settled on his back, patting his hand against Cas’ hip as he checked through his phone. “Next thing you’ll be wanting breakfast in bed,” he teased, thumbing through his emails then resting the phone down on his chest and closing his eyes again.

“That would depend entirely on the breakfast,” Cas said, sounding marginally more alert, and with a smile to his voice.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asked, smiling himself. “What’d be the decider for that?”

“It is difficult,” Cas sighed, rolling over slowly and laying on his back beside him, “I could be motivated by the breakfast we had last weekend; motivated enough to get _out_ of bed, actually. Though it would be very… agreeable, to also eat it _in_ bed,”

Dean thought back to the previous weekend, when they’d been very much in limbo between cases—in a good way, Dean added to himself—and he’d decided to pull out all the stops. Left both Sam and Cas in their respective beds and made a mound of breakfast food, smiling to himself to see them both dig in with enthusiasm before he helped himself to anything.

“You like my cooking, Cas?” Dean preened, telling himself he wasn’t.

“Of course,” and Cas turned his head to the side to reward him with a sleepy smile that added a little force his mumbled words. Dean returned it, then rolled his head back and closed his eyes once more. “It is a skill I would like to acquire,”

“Can’t give you my secret recipes,” Dean answered, still with his eyes closed, “but I can show you a few things if you want,” and Dean’s head filled with images of being with Cas in the kitchen—both sanitary and unsanitary—that left him discreetly shifting himself so their covers weren’t lying flat over him.

“I should have shown an interest before now,” Cas added, sounding contrite, “I should contribute more,”

“You contribute enough,” Dean countered, shaking his head, “you do all kindsa stuff around the bunker. ‘Sides. I _like_ cooking,”

“I know,” Cas agreed, smiling yet again when Dean cracked his eyes open and found Cas watching him, “you are good at it. I confess, it is one of the reasons for my return,”

“Oh it was, was it?” Dean laughed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,”

“Not ‘cos you like our company, ‘cos we’re _family_ , or anything, huh?”

Cas smiled, as though he liked that reminder, but shook his head. “I had considered attempting to survive on my own for a few months, before I contacted you. To prove to myself that I _could_ , and to… learn to be more self-sufficient,”

A cold swell pooled in Dean’s stomach then, trickling through him until he had to start moving, to try to dislodge it. “You weren’t… you weren’t gonna come _home_?”

Something in his voice must have been off enough to catch Cas’ attention, because the look he fixed on him became both curious and intense.

“It was just something I was considering as I traveled,” Cas replied, watching carefully, “I wondered if perhaps I should have… attempted a more simple… _normal_ life for —”

“You wanna go work at a Gas N Sip again or something?” Dean asked, incredulous, his heart beginning to catch up to the panic he was feeling, and pounding harder for it.

Cas shook his head, frowning as Dean watched him, “Absolutely not. But I did… contemplate, attempting to find something near you—near the bunker. Perhaps earn enough money to have a small apartment—”

“Bunker not good enough for you all of a sudden, Cas?” Dean bit back, the fear of Cas wanting to leave him putting anger in his voice. This was out of blue, something he’d never even thought to worry about. Cas wanting to be elsewhere— _not_ wanting to be with them —what else did that mean? Did he not want to hunt? Did he not want to spend all his free time with him— _them —_like he had been doing? Did he not want—

“Dean, I never said that,” Cas said, pulling himself up slowly to a seated position and staring down at him, “if anything, it was an idle thought—”

“If we’re so hard for you to be around all of a sudden, why the hell’d you even come with us on this?” Dean retorted, hearing his own voice rise as he threw back the bed covers and jumped out of bed.

“If I did not want to be here, why would I have shown you the news article that led to us coming here?” Cas argued, though it was a lot softer than Dean’s response, sounding like he was attempting to reason with him. Dean watched Cas sit up straighter, with his fingers curled around the edge of the cover, staring back.

“How come you didn’t just stay behind so you could take off when we were already gone, huh?” Dean continued, angrily snatching up clothes from his bag, wanting to curse himself for lashing out but not able to get a lid on it.

“Dean—”

“Not like it’s the first time you’ve taken off on us without a single word, is it?” Dean added, ignoring that Cas was stumbling to his feet, pushing down the voice screaming at him to stop being such a bastard, then stamping over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He took a minute to glower at himself in the mirror, then cranked the shower dial on and up to far hotter than he’d normally want, throwing himself under the spray.

Dean stayed in the shower until he felt the majority of his anger slip away, only to be replaced with remorse, and then new anger redirected at himself. He dried and dressed himself quickly, rehearsing under his breath the apology he knew he needed to give. But on leaving the bathroom with Cas’ name already on his lips, he found the room empty; a quick glance over to Cas’ bag confirmed he too had already dressed—which made sense since he wasn't there—and what was worse, not only had he made their bed far neater than Dean had ever seen Cas do his own at the bunker, but on the table was a cup of coffee and what looked like a breakfast burrito waiting for him.

Curling his fingers around the cup, the heat of it told Dean he had only just missed Cas, and as he wrapped his hand around and raised the coffee up to his mouth to take a slip, his eyes fell closed in disappointment. Opening them again, he slid the napkin out from where it was wedged beneath the burrito, read Cas’ familiar scrawl telling him to enjoy his breakfast, and that he was taking a walk. Dean grit his teeth, fighting the urge to throw the cup across the room in frustration.

Quietly cursing at himself, Dean grimaced at the window for the confirmation it was still raining, imagining all sorts of scenarios with Cas getting wet, or cold, or so many other problems. With a grumble under his breath he made quick work of pulling his shoes and jacket on, snatching up his breakfast and coffee, and making it as far as the door before realizing he had the only room key, and there was no way for Cas to get back in.

With a slump down on the end of the bed, Dean ate the burrito in three quick bites, absently sipping at the coffee as he went over his options. Texting an apology was out of the question because that felt like a half-assed effort. Waiting for Cas to return and apologizing in person was what he should do, but felt too overwhelming for Dean to bring himself to do it. If he thought about why he’d overreacted, though, that might be the worst thing to have to deal with of all, trapped there in his own head with no escape, and nothing to distract himself. That made the decision for him; swigging back the last of his coffee, Dean snatched up the tablet and wedged it inside his jacket, then grabbed his phone and locked up behind him, knocking on Sam’s door a little too firmly for Sam not to notice his mood.

“Uh… you okay?” Sam asked in greeting, looking up from where he was reaching down to pull on a sock as Dean barged into the room.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah. Listen… why don’t… why don’t you and _Cas_ go interview this guy. I’m gonna… I’ll ask around and stuff, see if there’s anything we’re missing here,”

Sam’s face rippled with unchecked surprise, and as he straightened up, Dean was already backing out again, anticipating questions that he was in no mood to answer.

“Uh—”

“Give this to Cas if he wants to get back in the room,” Dean added, tossing the room key in Sam’s direction then walking out, closing the door behind him softer than he’d slung it open, then started walking, with no idea of where he was going, and telling himself he didn’t want to run into Cas.

* * *

On his second refill of coffee, Dean turned the tablet off and pushed it across the table, slumping down on to his forearms and staring out at the continuing rain. It had been two hours; Cas and Sam were either with the guy they wanted to interview, or had finished, and were already back at the motel.

Dean grimaced at even the thought of Cas, pushing it away again as he had done ever since he’d left their motel room. He had his reasons, and he was fighting hard against acknowledging any of them. But as he took a swig of coffee, then jolted at the sight of a tan jacket as it passed his window, it was obvious he couldn’t block Cas out at all.

The case, he told himself, shifting in his seat, arguing that he had to focus on the case. According to his searches, sifting through every last report he could get his hands on, Dean had quickly come to the conclusion that whoever this ghost was, they hadn’t been anyone local. In the past five years since the carnival fire, not one person from the town had been listed as missing, or dying in anything resembling a fire. Which left the likelihood that the ghost was of someone from the carnival itself who’d been unlucky enough to get caught.

Dean’s search for details of the carnival itself had pulled up little either; the name of it had changed a few times, and there weren’t exactly reliable lists of employees for him to work with to find anyone that might be missing. So they were coming up short; they had two more nights in this town with little to go on, and no idea of where to head next, if anywhere. Which meant more research, a return to the carnival grounds, and two more nights in close proximity with Cas, which he so wanted, yet was desperate to get away from, because he didn’t trust himself.

 _Trust_ , Dean snorted to himself, sneering at the lie; it wasn’t about trust at all. It was about the thought of how he’d not be able to stand not continuing the intimacy they’d shared over the past two evenings when they moved elsewhere, or went back to the bunker. Sharing a bed even in the most innocent ways they had been doing had brought down a wall he hadn’t known he’d been hiding behind—and Dean was honest enough with himself to acknowledge he’d thrown up a fair few walls over the years. Because for all the years of lusting after Cas in secret—and there had been many, many years of doing that—the thing that made him feel most, well, _whole_ , he thought, laughing to himself for it, was those few little moments he’d shared with Cas when they were half asleep.

Not just that, Dean smiled, allowing his mind to wander just a little, thinking back over the last three months, and all the other little moments between them. Their closeness when they were doing chores together, just talking, or sat in silence at the library table reading; it was a closeness Dean hadn’t ever imagined himself feeling. A life on the road, a life _fighting_ , had never left any time or thought for anything like that, beyond the fleeting, whimsical ones he found himself indulging in if he didn’t check himself.

But Cas wanted to _leave_ , Dean reminded himself then, his stomach plummeting, Cas had thought about not coming to them at _all_. All this time they’d spent together, that Dean had tentatively allowed himself to fantasise about leading to something, was nothing but a lie. A deception he had no reason, no grounds for believing in at all.

Dean sat back in his chair with a thud, his mind cataloging each and every touch between them lately that he’d decided _meant_ something. From the way they had no problem being pressed up against one another in a too-small diner booth, to the way their hands lingered in passing sometimes; even how Cas had pressed back against him in bed like he was happy to be there —all these moments got a consideration. But none of them _meant_ anything to Cas, not like they did to _him_ , Dean scorned himself, scowling out into the relentless rain.

His phone vibrating pulled Dean out of his musings, his shoulders slumping at Sam’s message that he and Cas were finished, and more at his words along the lines of Dean needing to get his head out of his ass. Dean drained his coffee, shuffling out of the booth and leaving money on the table, then shrugging into his jacket, pulling up his collar as though that might save him from the rain.

The short walk back to the motel wasn’t enough; Dean braced himself before knocking on Sam’s motel room door and told himself he was going to be neutral, to not overreact. He sucked a breath in, pushing the door wide open, and feeling Cas’ eyes burning into him as he purposely avoided his gaze.

“So what’d you find out?” Dean asked, addressing Sam entirely, not acknowledging Cas at all. It was childish, he knew that, but right then he didn’t care too much about anything aside from shielding how he was feeling. Then immediately cursed himself for being so petty, and slumped down into a chair, offering Cas a tight smile.

“Well,” Sam began, looking between the two of them and barely containing an eye roll as he sat straighter on the edge of the bed, “first thing, homeless guy’s doing okay for himself. His name’s Steve—”

Dean closed his eyes, another _Steve_ in a bright blue vest instantly coming to mind; Dean gripped hard against his thigh and allowed himself one small glance at Cas sat across the table from him. The glance back gave away nothing.

“—and when he left the carnival that night, he got a bed at the shelter. Guy at the deli happened to be dropping off a load of food he couldn’t sell, and ran into him. Offered him a sandwich, got talking; we interviewed Steve in the deli this morning. Got a few hours’ work, someone let him stay on their couch—”

“Yeah, that’s great and all,” Dean interrupted, wincing for what he knew was going to sound uncaring, “but what about this case? We got a reason to be here or not?” and Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as Cas gave a disgruntled shift at his words.

As expected, Sam scowled back at him, then took a breath that spoke of stretched patience, and continued speaking. “So. Steve said, ghost’s a kid—”

“A kid?” Dean repeated, shaking his head.

“Yeah, a _kid_. A teen. A boy; somewhere in his mid-teens, maybe,”

“Steve actually _saw_ this guy?” Dean asked, sounding just as skeptical as he felt.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “more or less. He said he’d been sleeping there about a month and knew there was something up about the place. Like… he heard bangs and crashes, felt like he was being watched sometimes, but it wasn’t like… he didn’t say it felt like it was a problem, and he had nowhere else to go, so… he stuck around,”

“Okay, then what?” Dean asked, mentally going over his searches from earlier and reiterating to himself that this ghost was not a local at all.

“Then, he said the place started getting _freaky_. Like… the lights would buzz, or flare. We didn’t really stay long enough to look, but Steve says there’s scorch marks around all the electrics on everything, like, wherever there was power, the electrics had caught, or shorted out or something. He’d hear breathing in his ear —and crying all the time. Kept feeling like there was some presence pressed right up against him half the time the last few days he was there,”

“Ghost got all snuggly?” Dean laughed, turning to Cas to smile for it and forgetting himself, then snapping his head back.

“Who knows?” Sam shrugged. “Steve said it got more and more intense as the week went on, started feeling like… hands shoved in his back, or grabbing at him, and… the whole electrics thing got worse. Sparking, and stuff. Smoke started coming out of some of the casing around one of the stalls like it was catching fire. Steve was in the House of Mirrors ‘cos it had a half decent roof at least to one side of it; Steve says this kid, this ghost, started appearing in the mirrors and like… reaching out for him through the glass. And then he said a hand actually reached through the glass and grabbed his arm; Steve ran out of there—said it felt like his arm was on fire—and never looked back,”

“This was on the anniversary of the fire,” Cas added, his eyes already on Dean when he turned to look at him.

“And he’s sure it wasn’t just the kids from here pranking him,” Dean prompted, not knowing what to believe.

“Nope,” Sam said, shaking his head, “says he heard and talked to half the kids that went to the carnival. A couple of ‘em started taking him food sometimes. Our pizza guy, Wayne? Turned up at what had to be the end of his shift with leftover pizza once or twice,”

Dean grimaced at the reminder of Wayne and sighed to himself, softening a little at the thought of Steve being fed by the kids in town.

“It was a kind gesture,” Cas added, genuinely sounding touched by it. Dean’s heart gave a skip that made him feel ridiculous, and left him squirming in his seat.

“Then we need to figure out where this ghost is from, or something, ‘cos it’s sure not from round here,” Dean replied, staring at him and finding himself surging in misdirected anger all over again.

“Steve said that,” Sam agreed, sighing, “says after the fire, they—the town, kind of… abandoned the carnival as is, ‘cos it’s on the outskirts, and they didn’t want to pay to clean it up—and no one came to claim it or anything. Plus, no one’s missing, no one-”

“So, we’ve got a teen ghost, we’ve got… not idea what’s keeping him here. Steve give a description?” Dean interrupted with an impatient wave of his arm.

“Not really,” Sam admitted, “said he thought the kid must’ve been average height, maybe a little scrawny-looking. Says he saw an outline of him more than anything,”

“And we’ve no idea where he’s from,” Dean continued, “nothing ‘bout who worked on this carnival…”

Sam sighed, pinching between his eyes. “Especially if it was some kid working on the carnival for cash helping out or something,”

Dean nodded in agreement, pausing before he said his next words. “Ghost isn’t like… causing any trouble, here. Like… we’ve no real need—”

“You want to leave?” Cas’ tone was accusatory and a little upset; Dean sucked in a breath and told himself he wasn’t being petty.

“I’m just saying,” he said, raising his hands as though he didn’t care either way, “been here two days now. Got nothing; no one’s having any real problems—”

“We’re _here_ now,” Sam said, blatantly staring between the two of them then stopping to glare slightly at Dean, “we might as well —we might as keep looking,”

“Where?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow, though he didn’t truly think they’d give up. Or want to, even. “We’ve looked. There’s nothing—”

“We’ll… look into this carnival some more. See if we can’t figure out where it was from, or something. Like… gotta be _something_ we’re missing,” and Sam stared pointedly over at Cas when he said it, silently telling Dean to stop being an idiot.

“Fine,” Dean agreed, already standing and pulling the tablet out from under his jacket, waving it in front of him, “then I need to charge this thing up,”

“We should eat lunch,” Cas said, soft enough to slam a wall of guilt into Dean.

“Not hungry,” Dean retorted, leaving without another word, yelling at himself the entire time. His anger was pointless, and would solve nothing, he knew that; but Dean couldn’t bring himself to just _stop_.

It took barely a minute to get the tablet set up and charging, and apparently just as long for Cas to follow him to their room. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have a right to be there, Dean sighed to himself, side-stepping around him as he headed straight back out.

“Dean—”

“Catch you later, Cas; you and Sam, you research. I’m gonna… I’m gonna _take a walk_ ,” Dean answered without looking at him, pulling the door closed behind him and feeling utterly ridiculous for it as he sagged outside.

“‘ _Taking a walk’_?”

Dean walked straight into Sam, looking up at his bemused tone and scowling.

“Yeah, taking a _walk_ : got a problem with that?” Dean bit back, shoving at Sam’s arm to tell him to get out of his way.

“And you’re not hungry,” Sam added, taunting, falling into stride beside him and turning his gaze up to the sky in distaste.

“I’ll eat later,” Dean answered, though his stomach disagreed and gave a slight grumble, not loud enough for Sam to hear, but still enough to make him think of finding food.

“Look. I don’t know what your problem is today,” Sam began, tapping against Dean’s arm as he opened his mouth to protest, “but snap out of it, okay? It’s not… it’s not Cas’ fault there’s not much going on here,”

“Never said it was,” Dean answered, pointing at a bar across the street.

“Then why’re you giving him the silent treatment, huh? Why’d your storm of here like that this morning?” Sam prompted, glancing up at the bar name then grabbing the door as Dean yanked it open. “He came into my room all… moping, asking if I wanted anything picking up for breakfast. I assume he got _you_ something —”

“I’m not—”

“Dean. C’mon. He’s been… miserable all morning. I don’t know what you’re arguing about—or if you’re arguing about anything, actually, if you’re not just… doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing, but just… cut it out, okay?”

Dean winced to hear it, smiling at the barmaid as they passed her, and jolting when Sam hit him firm in the stomach with the back of his hand, stopping him in his tracks, “Don’t. Don’t do that,”

Dean looked up at Sam in surprise for the harshness of his tone. “Do what?”

“You _know_ what,” Sam glared, shaking his head.

Dean looked back at the barmaid now looking over in interest, up at Sam’s disapproving face, then slumped down into a seat with his back to the bar, and nodded in defeat. There was no point pretending to Sam that distracting himself wasn’t exactly where his thoughts had gone, as they always did for things like this; though not in the way Sam was presuming for once. And even less point pretending to be interested in anyone _but_ Cas; not since he’d drunkenly confessed about it to Sam a few weeks earlier, which apparently was an invitation to Sam to openly comment on it any chance he got.

“We’re gonna talk about this,” Sam told him, leaving no room for argument. He picked up a menu and waved it in front of Dean’s face until he was annoyed enough to snatch it from his fingers without even looking up.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, planning on every way he could to avoid _that_ happening, “just —”

“Eat,” Sam said, flicking at the menu, “I’ll go pick up something for me and Cas. We’ll keep looking, and you… you just… take the afternoon off. Do something. Not _that_ ,” he added, waving his hand towards the bar without even turning his head.

Dean peered around Sam’s shoulder and smiled ruefully, but nodded in agreement, suddenly regretting coming into the bar at all, despite how much he could use a drink. “I’ll… eat. Be back in an hour or so,”

“Dean, you have to talk to him about this. You have—”

“See you back there,” Dean dismissed him with a waved hand, then a smile of apology. Sam sighed in frustration but nodded, clapping him around the shoulder before tilting his head towards the door then leaving him there, with Dean watching him leave then turning his attention back to the menu.

A burger and a beer slid in front of him later—having considered a shot or two of something stronger but talked himself out of it—and Dean found he really did have no appetite. The burger he worked through without being able to taste it, going over Cas’ words and trying to make a sense of them that didn’t involve feeling _wounded_ for them, feeling sicker for every bite.

Dean reminded himself then harshly that he had no _right_ to Cas. He had no claim on him, no ownership, or arrangement. They might have forgiven each other for every time they’d made decisions that had not gone as they’d intended in the past, but they’d never really had a conversation about _why_ that forgiveness kept coming. They’d never spoken about the way they sometimes lingered when in any other situation, even a second’s pause would have been too long.

He might feel things for Cas that he’d never anticipated feeling, Dean continued to himself, allowing the honesty of his thoughts finally out after holding them back for much of the day. But that didn’t mean Cas had to return them. Clearly Cas _didn’t_ return them; how could they have had so many of these small _moments_ Dean kept filing away for private reflection on, and nothing having come of it, if Cas _did_ feel the same?

Cas was his friend, Dean reminded himself, and he should be grateful for that, revel in it even. Enjoy what they _did_ share together, and not expect anything more —not sulk, and twist Cas’ words when they didn’t fit what he wanted to hear. So what if he’d considered making a life for himself that wasn’t hunting? He couldn’t blame Cas for that, _wouldn’t_ blame him, not when it was a thought whispered in the back of his own head half the time.

Feeling thoroughly dejected with himself, Dean abandoned the remainder of his burger, finished his beer, and left the bar less than an hour after he’d walked in, determined to make himself apologize, no matter how difficult he found it. He rehearsed his words, kept them simple, tried anticipating what Cas might respond with and in turn what he might say, and had his thoughts as clear as he could get them by the time he’d made the short walk back.

But of course, nothing was that straightforward; when he stepped into their room it was to find it empty, and the text he’d ignored on his phone from Sam earlier confirmed that he and Cas had gone somewhere else to research and eat. Dean’s groan was audible, and after shrugging out of his jacket and kicking off his shoes, he threw himself down on the bed with a bounce, snatching up the book from the table beside it, and killed time alternating between failing to read that, and scrolling through his phone without really seeing anything.

The day passed on, dragging and leaving Dean glaring at his phone when every check of it revealed just how little time had actually passed. His texts to Sam were ignored, and though he wrote several out to Cas he couldn’t bring himself to send them, finally working up the courage to hours later when he found what seemed a legitimate excuse. When it had got dark enough to justify asking, he did, in what he hoped was an easy, joking tone, if Cas would bring him something back for dinner since he didn’t feel like going out himself. Hoping he could gauge Cas mood, or when he might be back by asking—and drop heavy, unsubtle hints that he was waiting for him.

When the door finally opened yet another hour later, Dean sat up straight, telling himself he hadn’t spent much of that time just staring at it, willing it open. In silence, Cas crossed the room, dropped a large white bag on to his lap, turned to grab some clothes, then disappeared into the bathroom with saying a single word. Dean found himself watching a new door for a few minutes before shaking his head and sighing, then opening up the bag to see what Cas had given him.

A huge sandwich filled with so much salad it reeked of Sam’s doing was nestled up beside a large side of fries that Dean decided had to be from Cas. He snatched one up, raising his head only for a second when he heard Cas turn on the shower, then dug in properly, realizing he was suddenly starving.

Cas finished his shower by the time Dean finished eating, and came back out, still not saying anything, sitting down on the bed bedside Dean and picking up his own book. This was almost worse, Dean thought to himself, watching without even attempting to hide he was doing it as Cas got himself comfortable, obviously having no intention of speaking first. He wondered if this was a tactic Sam had suggested to him, or if he’d just pissed Cas off so much that he didn’t know how else to respond. Both perhaps, Dean thought, his shoulders slumping, reluctantly going back to his own book and shifting back against the headboard.

Again Dean started planning conversations, opening his mouth to speak and every time finding those words weren’t willing to come out. But watching Cas continually turning pages and not even glance over in his direction got to him just enough to force him to speak.

“The thought of you… not even wanting to come back, Cas, it just…” Dean grit his teeth in determination, arguing with himself until he blurted out, “it _hurts_ , Cas,”

Dean sat in silence, rigid, waiting for the fallout of his confession. Cas’ head lifted, staring out across the room.

“I know,” Cas agreed after a moment, sliding his book to the bed and his face falling, finally turning to look at him, “I realise that now; I have had a lot of time to think about it today, and I am sorry. I did not think that it would upset—”

“You tryna tell me you didn’t think I’d be upset if you weren’t _around_?” Dean demanded, though his words came out more desperate than angry. He found himself up and across the room, tightly balling up the paper from his meal and throwing it into the small trash can with force, then standing there lost.

Cas’ eyes widened a little, his mouth falling open as though stuck between what to say, and being overwhelmed with surprise. “I _meant_ , Dean, that I did not think… I shared with you something I had given a… passing thought to. Because I… because I… I am _human_ now. I need to… There are things I need to learn how to do —how to _be —_”

“But why can’t you do that with us? _Me_? At the bunker?” Dean asked, not caring that he sounded like he was begging. Cas sighed, and shook his head, standing himself then giving Dean a tired smile.

“If you would allow me to _finish_ ,” he said, raising an eyebrow then stepping closer, until he was barely a foot in front of him, and Dean was left swallowing hard, “I was _trying_ to say, that this… learning these things, experiencing these things, alongside you —and Sam, in the bunker, is ultimately what I would choose to do. What I _did_ choose to do. I was simply… I was simply sharing something I had considered; not what I had decided, because you know what I decided,”

Dean frowned, still cautious, even when Cas reached out and gently squeezed around his arm, holding his gaze so he couldn’t look elsewhere. “I mean I guess…”

“I am _here_ , Dean,” Cas said softly, emphasizing it with another squeeze, “I chose _this_. To be here, with you —with you _both_. And there are many, many things that I would still like to experience for myself, but I —”

Cas withdrew his fingers and raised his arms in a light shrug, letting them fall softly down by his sides.

“What?” Dean prompted, feeling like he couldn’t take any more of Cas just _looking_ at him.

“I would like to experience them _with_ you. Beside you. I chose… first and foremost, I chose to experience _family_ , Dean. You; you and Sam, you’re my family, as you have told me, multiple times. Did you think I was not listening?”

Dean took in the raised eyebrow, the overall expression that told him yet again, that Cas thought he was overreacting—and had been doing all day—and the look in his eye that he was _sure_ added something else to what Cas was telling him. Maybe that was just wishful thinking, though, Dean cautioned himself, unable to hide the slumping of his shoulders in relief, and the tiny smile that replaced his scowl. Though he was yet to apologize; Dean steeled himself for another moment then tugged Cas into his arms, mumbling sorries into his shoulder long after Cas lifted his own arms to hesitantly wind around him, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I’m… sorry, Cas,” Dean blasted out, raising his head just enough to look him in the eye for it, then dropping it back down, “I know I… this morning I… I majorly—”

“I understand,” Cas replied, low, and into the side of Dean’s head, making him shiver a little for it, and tug Cas closer to cover it up.

“Yeah, well, I—”

“Dean,” Cas interrupted, shaking his head against him. Dean relented, allowing himself to sag even more against Cas, ignoring the whispers telling him not to.

“Can we sleep?” Cas asked a little later, pulling back and giving him a look that so obviously said, _are we done?_ Dean’s answering sigh was audible, and out before he could hold onto it. It wasn’t even that late, but he was exhausted, having worn himself out with his own stupidity.

“Yeah, Cas,” he agreed, debating it for a second then reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, to which Cas rolled his eyes but at least, thankfully, seemed amused.

This was the third night they had shared a room, Dean thought to himself as he got ready for bed, observing how even in that short space of time they’d established a small routine. And for all of his moodiness with Cas, Cas was still there with him, still giving warm smiles and offering up details about his day, as though this was something they had always done. What Dean hadn’t imagined happening, however, was the moment they were both in that bed, Cas turning to him, nudging at his side until he rolled over, then shuffling up behind _him_ , and wrapping an arm around his waist, holding on tight.

“Sleep,” Cas gruffed into his ear, unable to keep the mirth from his voice, then settled back against his pillow with a huff. His hand came to rest on Dean’s hip, as though waiting for an invitation, and Dean hesitated for a few seconds before reaching up to drag it down to his stomach like he’d done to Cas the previous nights, pressing it firmly into his stomach, slotting his fingers between.

On Cas’ huff of approval, Dean smiled to himself, settled to get more comfortable, and fell asleep analyzing Cas’ words, interpreting them in every way possible.

* * *

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

The rain woke Dean the next morning, so heavy that it was impossible to gauge what time it might be in the couple of seconds he blinked open his eyes. He was in no hurry to move though, instead smiling as Cas’ thumb traced an absent circle over the back of his where they gripped hands even in their sleep.

Every now and then, Cas would exhale that little bit stronger, ghosting warm breath over Dean’s neck and sending an inevitable shiver down the length his spine. And Cas was turned, ever so slightly, so they weren’t slot together in a perfect line, but Dean was sure on the couple of occasions he let himself rock back that _something_ pressed against him; he’d had to shift similarly himself to avoid Cas having to deal with that the previous mornings, and Dean wondered if Cas’ move away from him was conscious, or if they’d just untangled a little overnight.

Dean shifted again then, feeling himself stirring as his imagination got the better of him, earning a disgruntled mumble into his shoulder and Cas shuffling closer. Deciding to save Cas the potential embarrassment of realizing what he was doing, Dean spun around quickly to face him, watching the deepening frown on his face and his lips part in a blasted out sigh.

“Why are you moving?” Cas complained, splaying his fingers around Dean’s hip and nudging his legs forward until their calves were bumping together.

Dean turned his face into the pillow to hide his smile, but only for a second, since he didn’t want to miss any of the expressions Cas was making. “Wanted to see if you were awake,”

“I am now,” Cas grumbled back, stretching a little, giving Dean another few seconds of watching before cracking open his eyes and staring back. “Good morning,”

“Morning, Cas,” Dean beamed, not even attempting to hide the way he was smiling. Cas’ eyes dropped to his mouth in suspicion before trailing up again, then offered up a tired half-smile of his own.

“You are very awake,”

Dean couldn’t help it, couldn’t hold back the burst of laughter for Cas’ complaint. He spluttered it out, and Cas’ scowl just kept feeding it, until Dean was throwing his head back and laughing even harder, then grabbing Cas to pull him across the small gap between them into a one-armed hug. Cas huffed into his neck, grumbling to himself, yet wedging a knee between Dean’s, and throwing an arm around him, wriggling to get comfortable.

Dean squeezed tighter, leaning down on the top of Cas’ head and almost pressed a kiss there, stopping himself just in time to appreciate their closeness, but not let himself think he could push it to anything more. Cas sighed, hot breath blasting against Dean’s skin once again, making him smile into his hair and let out his own sigh.

When Cas pulled back and shuffled to drop his head down on his own pillow, they remained close. Dean told himself not to over-analyze the moment, not concentrate too hard on the way Cas’ hand trailed across his back and came to a stop around his hip again. Dean’s own hand felt awkward where it pressed into Cas’ upper arm, so he dropped it to the mattress, the tips of his fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt. Cas continued staring back, and Dean would swear there were words held there on the tip of his tongue, but nothing came out; with a final splay of his fingers around Dean’s hip, Cas pulled himself up and out of the bed, rummaging in his bag for clothes then crossing the room to the bathroom without comment.

Dean rolled on to his back with a sigh, his hand coming up to press over his forehead, squeezing at his temples as though that might push some sense into him. He’d catalogued the past few minutes already, so played them over a few times until he grew annoyed with himself, threw the covers back with force, and jumped out of bed.

After making the bed with care and pulling back the curtain to peer out and confirm how bad the weather was, Dean dug himself out a change of clothes and dropped them on the edge of the bed, slumping down there himself and snatching up his phone. Sam was already up, apparently, suggesting a place for breakfast that he’d passed whilst running the day before; Dean rolled his eyes, cast them towards the bathroom as he listened to the sound of the shower, then tapped back a reply of agreement, trying to distract himself from thinking of Cas, by scrolling through his phone.

Cas’ smile for him when he came out of the bathroom was a shy one; Dean squared his shoulders, grabbed up his clothes, and slapped him on the shoulder in passing, trying to appear unaffected by the way Cas had backed away from him. But the shower proved no sanctuary to escape from those thoughts; the only words playing on repeat to him under the stream of water revolved around the idea of being _rejected_. He cursed himself quietly for it, but could do little to break himself out of his somber mood, in such contrast to how happy he’d been feeling just a few minutes earlier.

That feeling of being rejected continued for Dean, with Cas very purposely walking the other side of Sam as they went for breakfast, even positioning his chair when they sat at a table very definitely further away from Dean. The conversation was subdued, and Dean tried to ignore the way Sam’s eyes flitted constantly between them as though trying to work out what was wrong this time, but then Cas was draining his coffee, and gulping down the last of his breakfast in a hurry.

“I would like to walk before we revisit the carnival,” Cas announced, standing and neatly pushing the chair beneath the table. Dean almost dropped his coffee in surprise, the edge of the mug clunking hard against his plate as he looked up at him.

“Uh… okay, well, we’ll wait for you at the motel—” Sam began saying, but Cas waved his words away.

“I will meet you there,” Cas assured him, staring directly at Sam, though his eyes did flit once over to Dean for a split second, before turning his full focus back to Sam.

“Cas, it’s raining,” Dean protested, gesturing with a wide open hand at the window, “‘sides, it’ll take you forever to get there on foot,”

“Steve informed us that the walk is a little over an hour; I'll be fine,” Cas told him, finally turning his focus solely to Dean.

“Yeah, ‘still raining though,” Dean said, gesturing at the window again, “you’re gonna get—”

“I will buy an umbrella,” and with that Cas nodded to them both and quietly turned around, leaving them staring after him.

Dean spun around to see if he could see him out of the window, but it looked like he was going in the opposite direction. “Did… we didn’t even agree on a time to meet him there,” Dean blurted out in delayed surprise when he turned back to the table, calculating what time they’d have to leave in the Impala, because there was no way in hell he intended walking there himself.

“Okay. What the hell happened this morning?” Sam asked with a burst of incredulous laughter.

“Meaning?”

“You. And him. Barely said two words to each other on the way here, and you keep looking at him like he’s gonna break or something,” Sam sighed, scooping up a forkful of his breakfast and staring back, waiting for an answer.

“Nothing,” Dean denied, already having played the entire morning's events so far over repeatedly to himself a few more times. There was nothing that stood out, nothing he could pinpoint that he’d done to make Cas freeze up and pull away from him like he had, out of what felt like nowhere. But no matter how closely he went through every single moment, he couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong.

His appetite dropping yet again, when it was rare for anything to put him off his food, Dean pushed his eggs around his plate with the fork scraping against it in disinterest, raising some to his mouth and chewing but barely able to taste a thing.

“Dean,” Sam prompted, more gently this time, wrapping his fingers around his mug and peering at him over the edge of it, “c’mon. Something must’ve—”

“Sam. Literally? Nothing,” Dean bit out, exasperated, “we were laid there, and everything was fine, then he just jumped up like I’d burned him or something and… and he could barely look me in the eye after,”

“And you didn’t… uh… do anything?”

“Sam—”

“To make him jump up like that?” Sam clarified, splaying his fingers in apology.

“Like what?” Dean demanded, glaring at him, feeling himself irrationally anger in defense of his own behavior, considering how adamant he was that he’d done nothing wrong.

“Like… I don’t know,” Sam said, shrugging, “did you… accidentally touch him or something?”

Dean’s fork rang out as it dropped hard against the table, his jaw locking in fury. “What the—”

“I just meant,” Sam said, wide-eyed in surprise, “I just meant, maybe if you were half asleep, you might’ve—”

“We were both awake,” Dean yelled back, far too loudly, in fact loud enough to feel a dozen pairs of eyes pivoting around to stare them. Dean tensed his shoulders and talked himself into calming for a moment, then raised his eyes again to glare at Sam. “Way to make me out to—”

“I’m not making you out to be anything,” Sam protested, hands now spread wide in a gesture that was obviously meant to be placating, which is wasn’t.

“Sure sounds like—”

“Dean,” Sam said, low and urgent, flexing his fingers as though they wanted to reach out to grab his arm, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant—”

“Maybe he ran off ‘cos I tried to cop a feel when he was asleep?” Dean spat back, now shoveling forkfuls of food into his mouth in an effort to stop crueler words coming out.

“I would never accuse you of anything like that, and you know it,” Sam denied with a firm shake of his head, “I just… look. Maybe I just thought that… that if you were both half-asleep, and… and since both of you are completely ignoring the fact that you… that there’s more to the two of you than just… you know... _that_ kinda thing might happen, with anyone meaning it to. I’m not… blaming, or —”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s pretty obvious that that’s _not_ a two way thing, Sammy,” Dean replied then, feeling nothing but dejected in the wake of his anger receding. Not that he needed the reminder of course; it was blatantly obvious Cas didn’t want him like _that_.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Sam answered, softer still, to which Dean could only huff.

“Yeah, well. He’s the one that ran off, so… think you might wanna rethink that,” he retorted, gesturing for a refill of his coffee as a server passed, then wincing around the huge gulp he took to avoid speaking again.

“Dean,” Sam began, and Dean braced for it, recognizing the tone for one of sympathy and understanding, whilst pushing, whether he wanted to hear it or not. “You keep… there’s always been something different about the two of you. Like… you two were way closer than me and him ever were, not that I don’t—”

“You always say that,” Dean interrupted, shaking his head, “you make it sound like—”

“I don’t make it _sound_ like anything,” Sam cut him off, “it _is_ that. I’m not saying I don’t like him, ‘cos of course I do. Obviously; he’s family. But it’s like…”

“Like what?” Dean asked in suspicion when Sam opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“It’s like he’s... he’s _my_ family, through _you_ ,”

Dean waved away Sam’s words, dismissing them entirely. “It’s not—”

“It _is_ ,” Sam insisted, giving a slight laugh of exasperation, “you think I actually needed to hear you _tell_ me how you felt about him? Like, maybe it’s not the most obvious thing in the world?”

Again, Dean cursed himself for that momentary loss of judgment, that second of letting down his barriers a few weeks earlier and allowing those thoughts out. Sam had sat there, patient as always, silently refilling his glass, and politely averting his eyes when tears of frustration at himself dared to leak a path down his cheeks.  _He doesn’t want me_ he’d said, blurted out in a wash of fresh tears, and pain, at first shrugging away from the comforting palm laid on his shoulder, then leaning into it, tearing himself away seconds later and denying himself the sadness he felt. But those words kept on rearing up on him, and every moment since, when Cas had been decidedly distant from him. He allowed himself to forget in between, and that only made it harder, and more hurtful when he pulled away yet again.

“He doesn’t want… that,” Dean said then, forcing the words out loud, avoiding the comfort Sam was trying to offer him from across the table, firmly fixing his eyes out on people passing by in the rain.

“Dean, he obviously does,” Sam countered, and Dean could feel how hard he was trying to get him to look back at him, but stubbornly kept his head turned, “he’s just—”

“Sam—”

“He obviously cares about you. It’s been obvious for… about a lifetime now, actually,” Sam tried to joke, but it did nothing to ease the hurt Dean was feeling. He heard Sam sigh, took the slightest glance to see the way his shoulders slumped a little, then resumed his staring outside.

“He doesn’t _have_ to, you know,” Dean answered, the words coming out flat, “it’s not a… not something he has to do to stick around, or anything,”

“I know that,” Sam agreed quickly, “but he _does_ , Dean. It’s just… you know the whole _angels repress emotions_ thing he had going on back, well, back _then_ ,”

Dean nodded to say he did, reminding himself of just how many cold, vacant stares of Cas’ he’d been on the receiving end of.

“Well,” Sam said, dropping his arms down so that his forearms slapped against the edge of the table, “it was obvious as hell that he cared about you when he was an angel, so imagine… imagine how intense that’s gotta be—for him to _feel —_now that he’s _not_?”

Dean denied Sam’s words with a repeated shaking of his head, that earned him yet another exasperated sigh in answer. And Dean fought against the instinct to end the conversation by storming off, hating that with anything about _Cas_ , he couldn’t do that, couldn’t bring himself to.

“Look,” Sam said, shifting tone, perhaps shifting tactics, “he’s just… he’s got so much to adjust to, to—figure out about being human now, that… maybe he’s just taking his time, you know? Figuring things out,”

“And what if what he’s _figuring out_ is that he doesn’t want to be here?” Dean countered, adding the _with me_ to himself, though imagining Sam heard it all the same.

“Dean. He can’t… he’s not… he’s not _rejecting_ you,”

“Yeah, well,” Dean said, huffing to himself and reaching for his coffee, needing something to distract himself, “sure feels something like that—”

“How can he be rejecting you… when he doesn’t even know what’s on offer, huh? How—how can he be doing _anything_ , when you won’t… when you won’t tell him what you’re thinking?” Sam asked, and Dean was comforted at least a little to see Sam squirming in his seat, not nearly as comfortable with the subject as he’d like to pretend he was. Good. “It’s… you don’t think he’s got enough to adjust to, without needing a little guidance for, uh... that kinda stuff?”

“You saying it’s all on me in this, then, huh?” Dean lifted his eyes to Sam’s then, pleading with him to stop. It was too much, despite how much sense it might make, for him to think about. Not with yet another night sharing a bed with Cas ahead, and what felt like endless possibilities for him to turn away from, or avoid him again.

Sam stared back for a while, then relented with a gesture that clearly said, _have it your way_ , and drained the last of his coffee. “Head back to the motel? Got a few minutes to kill at least, ‘fore we head off if we’re meeting him there, right?”

Dean nodded in agreement, and watched Sam fold out some bills to drop down on the table to cover their food, mentally debating with himself about taking a change of clothes for Cas, in case he was soaked from the rain.

* * *

“He’ll be here,”

Dean visibly winced at Sam’s words, having been far too distracted with staring out through the windscreen waiting for Cas to appear. He’d bargained with himself, counting in minutes to put off calling Cas to see where he was, and every time he got to the end of counting out those 60 seconds he started again, thumb caressing over the screen of his phone, both daring himself not to, and pleading that he just at least send a text.

“You know he was thinking about leaving?” Dean said, absently, and not even really intending the words to come out.

“Huh?” Sam said beside him, sounding confused. Dean groaned internally, kicking himself for what had to be the hundredth time just that morning.

“On the way. Before he got to us, he, uh… said he thought about maybe not coming back. Like… taking some time on his own to… do _normal_ for a while,” Dean said, sighing the words out, his minute up once more and resuming his counting all over again.

“Makes sense,” Sam said, and Dean almost gave himself whiplash turning to glare at him. Sam scowled back, his eye catching something and turning a fraction, then nodding out of the window to Cas now approaching in the distance. “I mean, he’s never been given any choice in what he does. Makes sense he’d think about… at least trying something else before he went back to—well, to what he already knows Right?”

Sam’s logic was sound, but Dean rolled his eyes at him anyway, though only for a second, already bracing his hand around the door handle and pushing it open, stepping out into the rain. Cas made an obvious beeline for him when he saw him getting out, and when he came to stop in front of Dean, his expression was elated, a little breathless and red-cheeked, but so obviously happy with his decision to walk, that Dean couldn’t help echoing his smile.

“You feeling okay?” Dean mumbled, taking a step closer, wondering if all that walking was going to make him stiffen up even worse when they got back to the motel later.

“Yes. It was a good walk; I got a little lost—”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, reaching out and squeezing around his upper arm, “figured as much, ‘cos this is way more than an hour,”

“How long have I been?” Cas asked, frowning, stepping closer still, and without invitation, pushing back the sleeve of Dean’s jacket to check his watch. “I hope I have not kept you waiting too long,”

“No, not too long,” Dean agreed, his eyes down on Cas’ thumb giving a solitary swirl over his wrist before dropping his hand away, “I, uh… brought your boots. Figured… maybe you’d wanna change ‘em. Gonna be muddy as hell in there,”

Cas followed his glance over at the waiting carnival then turned back with a thankful smile. “Thank you. I think that will be necessary,” and they both looked down at his running shoes that obviously weren’t particularly waterproof, as well as the several inches of the bottoms of his jeans that were soaked and splashed with mud.

“I got socks too; maybe I shoulda brought you a pair of jeans,” Dean added, gesturing for him to follow then opening the back door for him as he walked to the trunk. Cas sat, perched on the edge of the car seat hunched under his umbrella, calling a soft _hello_ over his shoulder to Sam.

“We will likely all need a change of clothes when we get back to the motel,” Cas pointed out with a tired smile of thanks when Dean came back to him.

“What're you doing?” Dean said, looking down at him. “Get in—”

“My shoes are dirty, I don’t want to make a mess,” Cas replied, and Dean looked again to confirm that yes, his running shoes were streaked with mud, and god knew what else.

“So? It’ll wash. C’mon, Cas—”

“It will be easier to change them here,” Cas insisted, and Dean caught both the slight change in his tone and the look in his eye that told him Cas didn’t think he could bend over in a cramped car space as easily as he could do sat hanging out of it. Dean sighed but nodded, grabbing the umbrella from his fingers and holding it over him, handing over the boots and socks and tilting his chin at them, telling Cas to get changed. Cas smiled in thanks, and Dean found himself offering up a wink in answer.

When Cas was ready, and Sam and Dean had shrugged into rain jackets that Dean kicked himself for not already having got for Cas when they’d bought all his other clothes, the three of them trudged away from the car, squelching in the mud, and grimacing as the too-long grass trailed water up their shins and calves. Dean skidded on the edge of a puddle, and Cas’ hand was immediately out to hold him up, his umbrella shooting forward to shield Dean from the rain as he righted himself.

“So? What’ve we got?” Dean asked, once they were in what had probably been one of the carnival entrances, taking a sweeping glance around him and asking himself yet again what they thought they expected to find.

“We pulled up every record we could get our hands on about travelling carnivals across North America,” Sam said, giving the same look around them, “around 250 are listed in a database, and that doesn't even cover all of them; some of the less, uh, reputable ones just don't want too much of a trail back to them—like this one,”

“Well that’s just great,” Dean retorted, although it was nothing they hadn’t already known.

“These carnivals, unlike the static ones, aren't subject to federal inspections—so regulations vary state to state,” Sam continued as they walked, “and there's apparently more than 300 million guests visiting these things every year. Seems like injuries are increasing around 12 percent yearly, and because most of the staff are part-time, seasonal, or paid under the table, it's like trying to find a needle in a haystack sifting through to... find out who would be working there, or where they've been,”

“That’s… a helluva lot of accidents,” Dean said when Sam paused, the numbers seeming so much higher than he’d imagined.

“Did you know that most carnival accidents are caused—happen on inflatable rides?” Sam said, smiling as they came to a stop beside the remains of a stall that was probably a hook-a-duck. “Not like... not like the ones you'd expect stuff to happen on. Rides and stuff. Five years ago, there were more than 4000 injuries reported; who knows how many more weren't for... whatever reason,”

“Did you know that Sammy here once gave himself concussion by knocking himself out with his own knees in his face, ‘cos he tried to bounce higher than another kid on a bouncy castle, and I thought he’d broke his nose the way the blood was just… everywhere…?” Dean added, eyes on Cas as he waved his hand towards Sam, watching Cas’ gaze flit to Sam too, and smile.

Sam rewarded him with a glare until Dean raised his hands in a sort-of apology, flicking his fingers towards him telling him to carry on.

“So, assuming this carnival's one of those that isn't listed anywhere—and keeps changing names—there's no easy way to work out if this ghost is of someone working on the rides, or a visitor, or whatever. Judging on Steve's guess at the boy being mid-teen, maybe we can narrow the search and think about kids visiting the carnival, instead of working on it. 'cos if a kid's died at a carnival—in an accident of some kind, that's gotta at least be recorded somewhere, right? I mean... think about it; they wouldn't've been able to... if one of their own staff—temporary or otherwise—if someone had died in a fire at their carnival—one of their own—who would've just… left? No casualties were listed for this fire, so, it makes more sense, doesn't it? I mean... if no body was found or anything...  what if this ghost hitched a ride from an accident somewhere else?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders; it made sense, but it still felt a little like they were clutching at straws.

“The carnival was scheduled to be in town for four days, and because the work's seasonal, they just go from town to town, to cram in as many places as they can while the weather holds. So, taking that into consideration, and that the carnival got here kind of... mid-July. That's... well, there's more than 200 accidents listed nationwide, up until this carnival got here. Fitting the age bracket of say... 13 to 16, and male, going on what Steve said, that gives us... 47 accidents. Luckily, most of them were just that—injuries and stuff, but unfortunately, there are three kids that died,” Sam finished, waving them forward so they could keep looking.

“So the fire's just a lucky coincidence?” Dean cut in with a short blast of laughter, pointing over to a stall he wanted to check out, since it seemed blackened by fire.

“If the kids that snuck back in left a bunch of candles burning and then got scared by this ghost and just... ran... the fire's kinda incidental, right?” Sam countered, and Dean considered his words for a second then nodded in agreement.

“Alright, so of these three—”

“One's out of the question I think altogether, just because they're—they _were_ , so far away from here,” Sam said, pointing at the fire damage that Dean had seen himself, then crouching down, poking at the remains of what looked like a campfire up against the side of the stall’s facade. “I can't imagine a carnival traveling thousands of miles just to—”

“If they've got a death on their hands they might,” Dean pointed out, watching a flicker of doubt cross Sam’s face and his eyes fall to the blackened piece of wood in his hand, that he then tossed back to the ground with a grimace, and wiped his hand on his jean leg before standing.

“Well yeah, I guess, but—”

“We checked; two of the boys' families received compensation from the carnivals involved. There is only this one that has no such records,” Cas’ calm interruption had Dean’s full attention, but then, he laughed to himself in mocking, he always had his attention anyway, so that wasn’t anything new. Cas looked over the charred remains himself with mild interest for a second, then turned his gaze back to sweeping over the carnival grounds.

“So you want us to... go interview this family like... five years after their kid died?” Dean asked, sounding just as doubtful as he felt; there was no way he would willingly go and dredge up memories for some poor family who had already lost their kid, not when they had so little to go on in the first place.

“If there is a boy, a teenager, trapped here, then it is our… responsibility, to _help_ him, Dean,” Cas urged. Dean turned fully to look at him, and the earnest look on his face caught him by surprise.

“Uh… yeah, Cas, I get that,” Dean answered, cautiously, “I wasn’t saying—”

“Then no matter how… difficult it is to find a solution here. How… impossible it might seem, then we should—”

“Cas,” Dean said, soft as he stepped forward and gripped his arm for a second, grimacing at the dampness there, then at the drop of rain from his umbrella as it hit the back of his neck, “I’m not saying I want us to give up, alright? I promise; I just wanna make sure we… we’re not sending ourselves off somewhere without… without having as much to go on as we can,”

Cas held his gaze for a second then nodded, the intensity of his gaze dropping a little before he paced away, leaving Dean and Sam to stumble after him.

“Alright, how about this?” Sam said, speeding up a little to catch up with them. “We round up… I don’t know. Anything personal we can find here—”

“Like?” Dean asked with a laugh, looking around at the way the grass and surrounding fauna had encroached into much of the carnival’s remains, then up at the continual black clouds above them that made everything seem darker, promising even more rain. “You want us to go rooting around in all this?”

“It’s a longshot, but maybe it’s worth it. We can… if we can get everything we can find into a heap… somewhere out of this rain,” he added, with a dubious glance upwards, “then get rid of it all—burn it. It’s too wet to stick around here to just… wait,”

“What, like, people just leaving stuff here when the fire started? Losing stuff?”

“Whatever we can find,” Sam shrugged, turning back to face him.

"We're... really clutching at straws with this, you know?" Dean sighed, looking around him and feeling nothing but doubt. "We don't know anything for sure, we don't know what we're looking for—"

"So we just... do everything we can," Sam shrugged, looking just as helpless as Dean was feeling himself.

“How about we come back tomorrow night, if it’s not like this,” Dean suggested after another moment debating with himself, his arm out and gesturing at the rain, “try and find some of these _personal effects_ , see if this ghost does anything when we’re here,”

“Tomorrow is the actual anniversary of the night of the fire,” Cas pointed out, and Dean rolled his eyes, giving a loud groan of protest.

“Yeah, ‘course it is,”

“Steve also said that the ghost, the activity, has grown increasingly strong each year,” Cas added, to which Dean then dropped his head forward in defeat.

“‘Course it has…”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam agreed, making a sound of disgust as he squelched in yet another muddy puddle and it shot up his leg, “I mean… not like we’ve got any urgency to be anywhere else right now,”

“See what happens tomorrow, if anything, then think of plan… what are we up to, now? C? D?” Dean smiled, pleased to see Cas echoing it.

“We should extend our accommodation,” Cas added, holding his eye contact, and Dean’s stomach gave a strange lurch, trying not to show how pleased he was that Cas still wasn’t looking to get his own room.

“Actually, I already asked,” Sam said, looking guilty for it, “tonight’s the last night we can stay. They’re closing for a week of repairs and stuff. We’ll have to find somewhere else tomorrow; they suggested another place,” at which Dean was crestfallen, but did his best to hide that as well.

“Alright, we’ll figure that out tomorrow,” he said instead, nodding in a direction he wanted them to head, “these kids that come here sure start a lot of fires, huh? There’s like… scorch marks everywhere, just like Steve said. Not just around any electrical stuff either,”

Sam and Cas followed where he was pointing, the blackened sides of stalls and small mounds where campfires must have been more obvious now that they were looking for it.

“We used to do stuff like this,” Sam shrugged, smiling, and Dean thought it might even be a little wistful, “remember that time I complained about being cold, and we couldn’t put on all our warm stuff in layers like we'd normally do, ‘cos we’d not done any laundry for a few days, ‘cos we didn’t have any detergent, and Dad was… wherever Dad was,”

Automatically Dean winced, sure he could feel Cas bristling beside him at the mention of their dad again. He chanced a quick peek, and sure enough, found Cas scowling. Sam didn’t appear to notice though, and carried on speaking.

“So you said we should play lava to keep us warm, and we were climbing all over the crappy furniture in our motel room,”

Dean smiled at the memory and nodded, remembering how loud Sam had yelled when he’d practically toppled off the top of the single rickety closet that held all their things. And how the neighboring room had yelled back, pummelling their fists against the wall in protest at their noise.

“What is _lava_?” Cas asked, perhaps as Dean had expected him to, explained the principles of the game, relieved to see it made him smile.

“And I tripped over the cord for the lamp, and the socket started smoking,” Sam continued, when Dean had finished.

“Whole motel shorted out,” Dean laughed, shaking his head.

“Surely not from one socket?” Cas asked, his face the picture of concern.

“‘Probly not, no. I don’t know. But like… all the lights went out, the fridge stopped humming, and all you could hear was the guy on reception yelling, so. We kinda sat there in the dark, didn’t know what the hell to do,”

“So what did you do?” Cas prompted, looking even more worried, and Dean flinched for his reaction to what was coming.

“I... guess I panicked. I… if they’d figured out it was _our_ socket that sparked something, then figured out we were alone and Dad was… _gone_ , then… we’d all be in all kinds of trouble,”

“So we packed. In the dark,” Sam added, a single glance over at Dean that he didn’t want to interpret, “snuck out of there. Found a pay phone. Sat in an all-night diner until, I don’t know… like, six in the morning? ‘Till Dad picked us up?”

“How’d you even know how long we were there?” Dean countered with a light shove. “I seem to remember you used me as a pillow for most of it. Like a deadweight,” he added when Sam shoved him back, clutching at his arm.

Predictably, when Dean risked looking at Cas, his fists were tightly clenched, and his face seething. Yet as he always did when he knew Dean was watching, Cas appeared to force himself to calm, nodding to himself, then at the charred marks Sam was pointing out in passing. There really wasn’t much to see at all there, the rain was relentless if not heavier than when they’d set out, and they seemed to have made a silent agreement to just look at things on the way back to the car rather than make any effort to seek things out. Dean told himself it wasn’t a completely wasted journey, even if it felt like it was.

“That was not your fault, Sam,” Cas said a few minutes later, when Dean had already pushed the memory they'd been discussing away. He turned to look at Cas, to find him looking up at his umbrella as it snagged a tree, before belatedly adding, “that was an incident due to faulty electrics,”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam agreed with an easy shrug, “but we did all kindsa stuff. Like… when we snuck those fireworks. When we… built a campfire in Bobby’s backyard and almost set fire to, well. Everything,”

“Sam once tried to burn a phone book in the sink at one of the motels we were staying in,” Dean added, laughing to himself at the memory, “I don’t know what gave him the idea, but I went out for groceries, came back to this charred smell, and the room filling with smoke. Sam stood on a chair hunched over the sink with a box of matches, and both the book and his shirt cuffs singed, saying he was _just trying to keep warm_ ,”

“Least it wasn’t the bible,” Sam joked, then immediately looked at Cas in horror.

“You tried to burn the _bible_?” Cas asked, staring at Sam in disbelief, and Sam’s own eyes blew wider. They all came to a juddering stop, and Dean had one of his rare, _oh shit, former angel_ moments staring back at Cas, waiting to see how he would react.

“What? No,” Dean stuttered out, looking rapidly between them, “I mean, I stopped him. He was only four at the time,” he added in Sam’s defense, not knowing what he expected Cas to say, or do.

Cas continued staring at Sam, but then the expression softened, and his mouth even turned up at the corners into a bemused smile, still fixing his eyes on Sam’s as he started up walking again. Dean turned to Sam when he turns his gaze elsewhere, and they looked at each other with a shared, helpless grimace, then caught up with him, with continuous side glances to try to gauge his mood.

“You were only four when you assumed the role of parent,” Cas announced, when they were only a few feet from the car, turning and smiling at Dean so warmly, he didn’t know what to do with it. “Neither of you are to blame for… anything,”

Sam caught Dean’s eye again, but he didn’t know how to respond either, so gave a weak smile, then shrugged out of his rain jacket and dived into the car in relief of being out of the rain.

* * *

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

“So. We got… Chinese. Mexican. That pizza place, or—”

“There?”

Dean turned to where Cas was pointing, recognizing the bar he’d been to previously, and sighed to himself. All the years Cas had known them, and their influence on the things he liked was blatant. Dean worried sometimes if Cas only liked the things he did because _they_ liked them, but then reminded himself of the way Cas devoured burgers, and hummed along to whatever music they listened to when they were driving, then asked Sam to add it to the MP3 player they'd given him not long after he'd arrived at the bunker, and forgave himself a little.

“You sure?” Dean asked again, nodding towards the bar to make sure. He had no objections either way, but if Cas wanted to try something different, he was more than happy to go along with it. “We don’t have to always—”

“Yes,” Cas nodded decisively, already stepping out to cross the street, “I want buffalo wings,”

“Okay—”

“And potato skins. Perhaps we could share a portion,” Cas added, glancing over at him hopefully.

“Worked yourself up an appetite today, huh, Cas?” Dean grinned, reaching for the door as Cas pulled it open for him, the smiled and ducked inside. Cas looked at him without commenting, then led him over to a table, where they spent a few seconds shrugging out of their jackets and grimacing at how wet they were just from the walk from the motel, and slid down into their seats in relief.

When they’d left the carnival, they’d picked up sandwiches on the way, then went back to their rooms for much-needed showers and changes of clothes. After lunch, they’d headed to an outlet they’d seen on the way into town, with Dean insistent on buying Cas a rain jacket, and half the afternoon had gone to clothes shopping, each of them laden down with things they’d not really intended on buying.

Cas had spotted a games corner near the food court, and the rest of the afternoon was lost to Dean and Sam teaching him the art of air hockey, as well as a couple of shooting games. When they’d returned to the motel, Sam had, conveniently, Dean thought, announced he had a headache, and said that he would order in, but that they should go out by themselves.

So here they were, the first time they’d been alone with one another all day, and the awkwardness of the morning rushing back to Dean in cruel reminder. To avoid it, Dean made himself busy, jumping up and heading over to the bar for a menu, smiling back awkwardly at the barmaid he’d seen on his previous visit, then slapping one of the menus down in front of Cas, already pointing to the buffalo wings.

“Buffalo wings, huh?” he said, glancing over his own menu as though he’d order anything different than he did usually.

“Yes,” Cas said, his finger trailing down the choices and his brow furrowed in thought, “the girls at the school; all of them, actually, had been preparing to go for buffalo wings after their practice. I Googled them, and the menu for this bar was the first in my search. They are apparently very good,”

Dean smiled at his speech, dropping his menu back down on the table. “And the potato skins?”

“I like potato skins,” Cas answered, pausing to look at him as though that was the most obvious of answers, “though I do not think I could eat all of them alone,”

“Yeah, I’ll split some with you,” Dean smiled, tapping at the back of the menu as he stood, “want anything else?”

“Just something to drink,”

“On it,” Dean agreed, debating all sorts of drinks before ordering them each a whiskey and a beer to go with their food.

“Why both?” Cas asked as Dean returned first with the glasses, then with the bottles before sitting back down.

“‘Cos,” Dean answered, raising his glass to clink against Cas’, “it’s medicinal. You— _we_ , were out in the rain a bit today. Got soaked. This’ll help,”

Cas’ eyes crinkled in that way they did when he found something Dean or Sam said amusing, or maybe even endearing, Dean amended for the way he smiled at him. “Then. To our good health,” Cas toasted, his eyes never leaving Dean’s as he did. Dean did his best to look elsewhere but found that he couldn’t.

“You gonna be okay tonight?” Dean asked, already glancing him over for signs of stiffness or aches. “You walked a helluva way today,”

“I hope so. Perhaps you are correct though, and the whiskey will help,”

“You’ve been sleeping okay here. Right?” Dean winced at his question, not having any intention of letting it out. But like so many things he wanted to say to Cas, the words came out anyway; just when he didn't want them to, is all. How long would it be before he said too much, and had to deal with the fallout?

Cas smiled, glancing down at the table. “I have slept well. I hope I have not disturbed you in my sleep,”

“Not even once,” Dean assured him, taking another sip of his whiskey as though that might prevent him saying anything he thought he shouldn’t.

“I think last night that I slept for the longest I have since I fell. Aside from that first time, of course,” Cas added, looking up at him then away again, seeming to focus on his own fingers as he toyed with his glass.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” Cas nodded, “it has been… I have enjoyed your… company, Dean,” Cas said, his cheeks flushing the tiniest bit red. Dean zeroed in on it, having learned to appreciate all the little nuances of Cas’ emotions that had been so well-hidden when he was still an angel.

“Me too,” Dean agreed softly, and again they stared at one another for far longer than he thought they should, snatching his eyes away finally to look out the window. “Think this rain’ll ever stop?”

“I did not mean anything... untoward, by… leaving so quickly this morning,” Cas said then, quiet and urgent, as though he was anxious for Dean to understand him.

“‘S fine,” Dean said with a dismissive wave of his hand, though his heart did a stop-start thing that left him grabbing for his drink and gulping at it.

“I… there are certain… reactions, I—only on occasion,” Cas added, with wide, alarmed eyes, “have difficulty controlling. I did not think you would want to… know about that,” he finished with, his words trailing off, and that red flush blooming a little harder.

Dean’s heart didn’t do so well with that information at all, torn between excitement that he was adamant he shouldn’t be feeling, and misplaced disappointment that Cas would think he _wouldn’t_ want to know. He slung back the rest of his whiskey, avoiding Cas’ gaze for a second as he tried to right himself, then nodded, attempting to appear indifferent.

“Happens, Cas, don’t worry about it,” Dean said, belatedly finding relief that Cas wasn’t pulling away from him for something _he’d_ done. “Can’t say it doesn’t happen to me either,”

“And I am truly sorry that I… when I told you about my… when I said that I had previously considered taking some time for myself—”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted with a wave of his hand, “it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t, I… I get it if you want time for yourself, to go off and… I don’t know. Do your own thing, and all that,”

“You understand,” Cas said, making the statement sound like a question, and leaving Dean surging with panic that perhaps he was about to tell him that was what he wanted, that he was going to disappear on his own for a while, despite what he’d said the day before.

“I do,” Dean agreed, slamming a lid down on those fears, because he did get it. Even if he couldn’t see his life entirely free of hunting, it didn’t mean he didn’t wish for that from time to time—more than that on occasion. “I just… it was just selfish, okay? Nothing you gotta be thinking about,”

“Selfish?” Cas repeated with a slight frown.

“Yeah,” Dean laughed, reaching for his beer, “I… you’re… I like having you around. I’ve got _used_ to you being around,”

Cas smiled back at him with what Dean was sure was affection. “As I have, to _being_ around,”

“I… you’re important to me, Cas,” Dean added, struggling not to tack on a, _to us_ at the end like he did for everything else to dampen its effect. His heart thrummed in protest at him for allowing those words out, fearing Cas' reaction, then jolted harder still as Cas’ eyes blew wide, and his fingers gripped tighter around his glass.

“You are important to me, Dean,” he said, a touch of awe in his voice that had Dean’s stomach flopping unnecessarily. “I would be… I do not think that it is selfish,”

“Well, good,” Dean smiled back, feeling his own cheeks heat, “that mean you’re not going anywhere? Not that—not that I’d stop if you wanted—”

“I am not,” Cas assured him, and for the way his hand twitched, Dean was sure he was about to reach out for his own. But at the last moment he saw Cas' hand swerve to grip around his beer bottle, raising it to clink against Dean’s own and taking a gulp, darting his eyes away.

An uncomfortable silence followed, and when it grew too much, Dean rolled his whiskey glass in his hand, snatching up Cas’ the second it was drained, and went back to the bar for another. When he returned to the table, he was determined to make things easier between them, couldn’t stand the thought of having a couple of hours alone with Cas and wasting the entire time just avoiding each other and making idle conversation.

“So, Cas,” he said, the second he sat down, taking a sip of his whiskey and telling himself not to knock that back as well. “How come… why’d you think about not coming back? Is there something you wanna do? Go somewhere, or something?”

“Both,” Cas smiled, sipping at his own drink, “it is not one thing, it is… there is much I would like to experience as human,”

“Like what?” Dean prompted, hoping that he wasn’t about to hear anything he didn’t want to. What if the things Cas wanted involved things he couldn’t give him, or worse still, things Cas didn’t want to share with him at all? Share with someone else, he added to himself, jealousy for nameless faces already swirling in his gut.

“I would like to… when we hunt, Dean, we never stay in the same location for longer than is necessary. We never stop to... discover things that we would perhaps not see elsewhere. We have not—yet—gone anywhere for reasons other than practical ones. I would like to,” and Cas huffed to himself, shaking his head, “I would like to just… drive somewhere. Exist. Travel, for no reason other than traveling. No destination, no goal, no… obligation,”

Immediately Dean’s mind filled with images of taking a road trip, flitting between the three of them together in the car, and of just him and Cas. He cleared his throat, smiling, tilting his bottle towards Cas, telling him to carry on.

“I want to… learn something I don’t already know,”

“Like what?”

“Something practical. Something with my hands, perhaps. Carpentry. Painting. I am not sure what, but I would like to… _do_ something,” Cas said, emphasizing his words with an earnest look about him that Dean couldn’t help smiling at.

“What else?” he asked, muttering a _thank you_ as their food arrived. They took a moment to rearrange their plates, with Dean taking an offered buffalo wing, and Cas scooping up a handful of the fries that had come with Dean’s burger.

“I want to… sail a boat. Watch the stars from a beach. Not that I don’t appreciate the view from the Impala,” Cas added, raising an eyebrow at Dean, telling him not to be offended. Dean waved for him to continue. “I want… to not think about the consequences of my actions for once,”

“What’s that mean?” Dean said, nervous as he watched Cas dig into his wings and hum in approval.

“To…” and Cas shrugged, seeming exasperated, “I don’t know, Dean. These are not specific things. I want to just… _be_. I… know myself, Dean, but I… there are so many possibilities, so many other things I could be, as well as this, that are perhaps part of who I am. I have never had the opportunity to experience… so many things, and I… I want to. I do not wish my life to be just… hunting,”

Dean smiled, though his stomach dropped enough for him to put his burger back down on his plate. He _was_ selfish for wanting to keep Cas close to him when he was right; there were so many things he hadn’t had a chance to even figure out if he liked or not.

“I also want this life. At least, parts of it,” Cas added, carefully observing him as though he was reading his mind, “I do not want to give _this_ up,”

“It’s not much of a life, Cas,” Dean told him, softly, and honestly. Even if it hurt to think about Cas not being part of it.

“It is still my life,” Cas argued, just as gentle, “it is a part of my life that I… do not imagine giving up entirely. I would just like… to expand it a little. To learn more about… who I am,”

Dean smiled, forcing himself to take a bite of his burger, even though it hurt to try to swallow it down.

“And I realized, when I was considering not returning to the bunker, that I would be missing part of myself by not being there. Not being with _you_ , and Sam. You are… important to me, Dean,” Cas repeated, “both of you. You are… huge parts of my life, that I… I don’t want to be without. And I can… learn everything else.... And who I am… in your company. If that is something that you have no objection to, that is,”

“None whatsoever,” Dean told him immediately, not wanting to leave him even a second of doubt. His stomach settled again, unclenching from its tight knot, yet his heart still giving the odd erratic thump for the look in Cas’ eye, that he _still_ couldn’t interpret.

But from then on, the conversation grew easier, with Cas repeating a joke that Claire had told him, and Dean laughing so hard for it, his chair rocked backward. Dean laughed again when Cas looked down at his sauce-stained fingers when he moved to knock their glasses together for a third time, and harder still at the expression on his face when the cheese from his potato skin just kept on coming. Everything Cas did had him laughing, or smiling hard, and more than that - though he pushed _those_ thoughts to one side, determined not to ruin the evening by wistful thinking.

Cas’ continual lost-look down at his fingers had Dean grabbing up a wad of napkins, gripping loosely around his wrist then doing his best to wipe the majority of the sauce off, repeating it with the other hand as Cas stared, fascinated. Dean then watched Cas as he headed towards the restroom, hands in the air in a position that Dean had seen on far too many shows with surgeons about to go into the operating theater—including _that_ show, which he considered trying to get Cas to watch with him —still smiling in his direction when Cas returned.

The evening grew more comfortable still, with Dean shuffling around the table a little to show Cas something on his phone, and never moving back. Their thighs bumped beneath the table, and their shoulders knocked and nudged repeatedly, whatever they were saying, being at that perfect point of not quite drunk, yet not quite sober, and Dean having just enough sense about him not to lean in for the kiss he’d been thinking about ever since he’d shuffled his chair around.

The walk back was slower than necessary, and Dean slung his arm around Cas’ shoulders the second they were outside, grimacing up into the rain that had turned into the fine mist he always felt was creeping into his skin. They paused outside Sam’s room, noting his light was already off, then let themselves into theirs, with Dean softly closing and locking the door behind him.

“So. Last night here, huh?” Dean said with a sickly smile that he hoped Cas wouldn’t see the disappointment behind.

“Yes,” Cas agreed, turning his head to thoughtfully glance over the bed for a moment then turning back to Dean and giving a single nod.

“Bet you’ll be glad to get back to your own bed,” Dean added, trying to trick himself into wanting that too, instead of dejectedly wondering if he’d even manage to get to sleep on his own again. Which was stupid, he knew that; it wasn’t like he’d fallen asleep with many people in his life besides Sam, and that was in an entirely different setting. There had been Lisa, of course, and he’d never regret the time they’d spent together; but it just wasn’t the same, wasn’t _this_ feeling that he had with Cas.

Dean growled at himself under his breath and turned his back, wiping a hand over his mouth for a moment. then stooping to drag up his bag to drop down on the table, packing up the things he wouldn’t need for the morning and pretending he wasn’t waiting for Cas to answer.

“It is more comfortable. And bigger,” Cas offered, catching Dean’s eye as he turned, and pinning him there without even really trying.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, with another painful smile, “yeah, it is that,”

“Though it has been… enjoyable. Sharing a room with you,” Cas added with a tiny, hesitant smile, and Dean would swear it wasn’t just wishful thinking that a hint of blush hit his cheeks as well.

“Yeah, well. What can I say. I’m good company,” he retorted, even winking as though inside he wasn’t aching for another night beside him, despite technically still having one ahead. More nights, if possible, and not just nights; arms around shoulders when sat watching something together, not pulling away when they were stood side by side. He even allowed a fleeting thought of making up an excuse to grab Cas’ hand, but stopped himself from visibly showing his reaction to that.

“Yes, Dean. You are,”

Cas’ earnest answer had Dean’s stomach rolling, enough to stumble out a, _you too,_ in answer, then cuff the back of his neck and pace away again, taking a little longer to brush his teeth and get ready for bed than was strictly necessary, but still not quite enough time to really compose himself.

Cas’ smile for him when he came back out was sweet, and Dean dragged his eyes away from it so he could stop thinking about words like _sweet_ and associating them with Cas. But Cas seemed unfazed by his reaction, lightly gripping his upper arm in passing as he disappeared into the bathroom himself.

With nothing else left to do, Dean checked the door a final time, and gave his phone a final glance over, then peeled back the cover of the bed and sunk beneath it, settling on his back. He was paying this far, far too much attention, Dean convinced himself, for all of three seconds, his resolve slipping the second he heard the bathroom handle turn, and Cas’ feet pad softly towards him.

The bed jostled beside him as Cas got himself comfortable, and they both lay on their backs staring up at the ceiling, even after Dean reached to turn out the light. But unexpectedly, or perhaps on instinct, they turned as one, fitting together without comment, with Cas slotting up behind Dean and tucking his knees in behind him, splaying his fingers over his stomach without invitation, and pressing his nose into his neck just above his t-shirt label. Dean hesitated for only a second before reaching up with his own hand to fit his fingers in between Cas’ and squeezed lightly, fitting back against him and letting out a soft sigh.

* * *

At the squelching sound of his boot hitting the mud when he stepped back from slamming the trunk closed, Dean grimaced, glancing down just long enough to make out a thick splash of it across his toe, muttered a single, _urgh_ , then nodded to Cas to see if he was ready.

Cas gave a cautious smile, the exact same one he’d given him earlier, when they’d dumped their bags in their new motel room, and Sam had immediately sprawled out in claim of the pullout bed with a relieved groan, leaving Dean and Cas to avoid looking at the bed they’d have to share. Dean hadn’t known what to make of the smile there in the room, and he didn’t know what to make of it then beside the car either, but he returned it, a little fuller, feigning nonchalance that he didn’t really feel.

In truth, until they’d set off for the carnival, Dean hadn’t put much thought into their sleeping situation at all. On arriving in the room, he’d thrown his bag down on the end of the bed, checked Sam had everything he needed, then mumbled a, _we’ll deal with it later_ , and dragged Cas straight back out.

He’d been unimpressed that there was only one room available, and even more so that the entire space was smaller than the room he’d shared with Cas alone. But what hit him most, and out of practically nowhere, as he snuck peeks at Cas gazing out of the window, was the reminder of the way they had curled around one another for four nights in a row; and how much he was already missing that.

Dean looked skywards for a second, and pleaded with himself not to reach for Cas out of some new-found habit during the night.

Sam called them forward then, breaking Dean from his thoughts as he shone a beam of light out across the long grass where they’d been stood yesterday, and Dean took a second to check over Sam’s face before nodding and falling in to step by his side. The three of them trudged on in silence, a continual crunch of wet gravel and splashes beneath their feet providing the only noise.

When they’d met for breakfast that morning, with Dean and Cas already running a little late because they’d not moved from the comfort of their bed until the last possible minute, they’d been greeted by the sight of Sam, leaning hard against the side of the Impala, his skin pasty, and his thumb and forefinger repeatedly pinching at his temples. Sam admitted he genuinely had gone to bed early the night before with a killer headache, and Dean had known from his expression that he’d be out of action for the day as well.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Dean asked softly, catching Sam’s scowl that suggested he might have asked a dozen times already.

“I’m fine, okay? Slept most of the day, took a bunch of pain relief; ate the sandwich you practically shoved down my throat,”

“I—”

“I’m fine,” Sam insisted, raising an eyebrow, “honestly,”

Dean made a noncommittal hum of not-quite agreement, then shone his flashlight in the direction of what he thought had been a rustling sound, wondering if any kids had decided to pay a visit to the carnival now that the rain had finally stopped. With nothing there, he swept the beam back again, casting long shadows that seemed to glisten with the thickness of mud.

“There’s this,” Sam said, and Dean turned to see him working a small stick into the grass, then pulling it up again, and watching as the strap of a slimy, disintegrating backpack slid down towards his hand. Dean nodded, pivoting for a second, then marched over to an unrecognizable stall still half-standing, ducking inside and yanking at the back wall display there, until a fairly large chunk of it came loose.

“How ‘bout we start piling it up on here?” he suggested, knowing they’d struggle starting a fire given how saturated everything around them was. The thick, wet thud as Sam slid the bag down onto the wood seemed to confirm that, and Cas added to it a second later, losing his footing a little as he came to a stop, and dropping a shapeless object that it took Dean a few seconds to recognize as a teddy bear.

“Think this ghost might’ve had this thing with him?” Dean joked, holding back a peal of laughter at the indignant look Cas gave him. “Bit old for a secur—”

“Do you think anyone should outgrow the things they enjoy, Dean?” Cas countered, with a huff. “How do you know that they did not find comfort in carrying such a thing?”

“I—”

“Or perhaps you haven’t considered the possibility that they won this bear for a loved one?” Cas continued, righteous enough for Dean to be raising his hands in defeat, which left him wincing for the way he managed to shine the flashlight in his own face.

“Cas,” he said softly, stumbling forward and lightly gripping around his arm, “I was kidding, okay?”

Cas continued glaring back at him for a moment, then relented with a soft sigh, turning out of his grip to sweep the ground in a careful arc of light, as though determined not to miss anything. Dean exchanged a brief glance of amusement with Sam, then followed Cas’ example, their footsteps squelching and echoing as they moved, each of them working a little further apart to cover more ground.

As they searched for more abandoned personal items scattered around them, Dean’s mind naturally went over the day he’d spent with Cas, where they’d first stopped for breakfast that Sam had insisted he’d never keep down even if they did bring him some back, and then took an impromptu drive out that lasted until late in the afternoon.

The look of delight on Cas’ face each time they came to a junction, as Dean waited until Cas chose the direction they would take, had Dean’s mouth curving up into a repeated smile for every turn he remembered. At one point, Cas had stopped him with an absent hand wrapped around his thigh as he’d pointed out thick, churning rain clouds off to the side of them, and it hadn’t been until they’d been pulled to the side of the road for several minutes to watch those cloud continue to roll, that Cas had looked down at his own hand in realisation, and slid it away with an apologetic smile.

Dean turned then, bringing his focus back, watching as Cas made his way past the carcass of a dart and balloon stand, imagining the curious look on his face as he turned his head towards it, and smiling as Cas stopped to peer inside. Watching him, Dean had another idle thought of finding a carnival to take Cas to once their case was over, then caught himself imagining winning him a bear, and abruptly shoved the thoughts elsewhere, cursing himself for it.

In the space of around half an hour, that mound they’d started barely grew, with a couple of abandoned shoes tossed to the pile, some things that were clearly prizes from the stalls themselves, a jacket, and what looked the the burnt remains of a makeshift Ouija board.

“Think they messed around with this thing? The kids?” Sam asked, as the three of them stood around their haul, the expression on his face saying he was already convinced of the answer.

Dean looked down at the board, its roughly-painted lettering and the deep gorge across its middle standing out more than anything for how fresh they appeared compared with everything else in the pile, and nodded. “What else are kids gonna do in the middle of the night at an abandoned carnival, huh? ‘Sides drink and make out?”

“Not all of us are such a cheap date,” Sam laughed, turning away again, squinting out into the dark. “It smells here. Right?”

Dean nodded, inhaling deep, and glancing all around him for the source of it, not really expecting to see anything. “Cross between a campfire just gone out, and, I don’t know. An electrical fire,”

“Which we should not be able to smell at all, given the rain would prevent a campfire from starting,” Cas added, giving a frown that said how much he disliked his senses telling him something that wasn’t possible.

“How’re we gonna burn all this crap anyway?” Dean added, more out loud to himself than anything else, as he poked against the side of the pile with his foot.

“I guess we… find as much dry wood and stuff as we can and… hope it catches?” Sam replied, sounding doubtful, “we’ll keep looking, and—”

The sharp, crackling sound off to the side of them stopped Sam mid-sentence and had them all spinning around, squelching and slipping as they did. When they moved closer, they found a length of black cabling hanging loose over the frame of a hot dog stand, sparking and spitting out small plumes of smoke as it gave the occasional jolt.

“They said stuff was sparking,” Sam said, getting closer, trailing the beam of his flashlight along the length of the cable, stepping back as it began to buzz louder.

“I guess,” Dean said, stepping forward and following the cable over the stand’s roof, “I read somewhere that this was where all stuff like carnivals was held for the town for the past... 25 years, I think. So, guess they must have a permanent electric distribution point somewhere around here for them to jack in to, ‘stead of a ‘hot truck’, or something. Maybe all this sparking’s just ‘cos the power’s not completely cut off?”

“It’s weird. No carnival’s been back ever since? I mean,” Sam said, jumping at a louder spark as it flared in his direction, “if they had carnivals coming here for that long, and the kids say there’s not much to do around here, you’d figure the town’d… make the effort to clear this place up to get people coming back. Right?”

“Tasha, and the other girls, informed me that many of the parents were pleased that there were no more carnivals able to visit,” Cas said, frowning at the plumes of smoke, and reaching out to grip around Dean’s wrist to tug him back when another spark jumped. “The parents, the locals generally, really, complained of _inappropriate behaviour_ when there were visiting carnivals,”

“Like what?” Dean asked, glancing down at Cas’ fingers as they gripped onto him for another second then slid away again.

“Garrett’s parents—foster parents,” Sam said, then amended, “said whenever a carnival showed up, they had to be extra careful with fake bills and coins showing up in all the stores. And apparently, shoplifting was rife. Guess maybe that had something to do with it,”

“You saying these carnival workers helped themselves to a little five finger discount every town they stopped in or something?” Dean snorted, shaking his head.

“It is stereotypical to assume that-” Cas began, but Dean nudged against his arm, smiling.

“I know,” he said, smiling harder as Cas narrowed his eyes at him, then relented with a smile of his own.

“They also implied,” Sam said, glancing between the two of them and appearing to be holding back on commenting, “that some of the carnival workers were, uh… horny?”

Dean snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Cas sighed, clearly unimpressed, though Dean couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about, “that there was a _scandal_ here approximately seven years ago, when allegedly, a carnival worker took a high school student into the back of one of the caravans and… impregnated her,”

“...like… unwillingly?” Dean asked, his jaw clenching with disgust already, despite knowing there was nothing he could do about it.

“No,” Cas assured him, a softening around his eyes that Dean told himself he wasn’t looking at, “they merely, uh-”

“Hooked up?” Dean suggested when Cas seemed to stumble.

“Yes. The girl in question… young woman, really, hid it from her parents - and the school - until she was approximately six months pregnant,”

“Town was scandalised?” Dean guessed, sighing to himself. He paused to shine the flashlight over the remains of the carousel the hot dog stand was stood in front of, watching the long shadows dance there, convinced he saw something move, then carried on moving when he’d decided he hadn’t.

“Yes,” Cas nodded, “she was ostracised by many of her peers, though still attended school for as long as she was able. She gave birth to a daughter, and when well enough, left the town. One of the girls on the soccer team told me that her older sister is still in contact with her. Both her and her daughter are doing well; she completed her high school education and attended community college,” Cas finished with, appearing to be proud.

“Good for her,” Dean said, feeling a stab of affection for Cas’ reaction. Cas’ defensiveness of those less fortunate, or victimised, or suffering in any way, had always been there, but since becoming human had grown that much stronger.

“So what with the petty theft, the counterfeiting, and stealing their daughters,” Sam said, a smile on his face that was wiped instantly for the joint glare he got from both Dean and Cas, “the fire was a perfect excuse to stop the carnivals coming here?”

“Sounds like something like that,” Dean agreed, rolling his eyes and turning away again.

“Should we go back to the House of Mirrors?” Cas suggested, as they reached the edge of the Orbiter, where one of its arms still pointed skywards, but the rest were crumbling remains in various stages of deterioration across the ground. “Is this _fun_?”

Dean shrugged, coming to a stop beside him, one hand reaching out to grip around the top of the one still-standing section of metal fencing, then pulling back again at the coldness of it against his skin. “Sure. ‘s long as you don’t eat right before getting on,”

“Dean doesn’t like carnival rides all that much,” Sam told Cas with a confidential look ruined entirely by a teasing smile.

“Least I’m not scared of clowns,” Dean retorted, shoving at him.

“Tried to convince him to go on a Wave Swinger with me once,” Sam continued, still grinning, “you'd've thought I asked him for a kidney or something,”

“You were being a brat,”

“I _was_ being a brat,” Sam agreed, “and you were being a total wuss,”

“What is a _Wave Swinger_?” Cas asked, eyes flitting between the two of them and even in the minimal light provided by their flashlights, Dean could see the look of consternation he was giving him. Dean waved his hand in the direction of the House of Mirrors and began walking.

“Think like… swings. Giant swings on these… long ass chains that go round and round, like, a thousand foot up in the air at a million miles an hour,” Dean retorted, falling into step beside him.

“That does not sound pleasant,” Cas agreed, a curious glance over at Sam as he laughed to himself.

“So what’re we thinking?” Dean asked, nodding at the House of Mirrors when they finally came to a stop in front of it. “Just… wait, see if this ghost pops out, says hi?”

“There’s something going on here,” Sam said, frowning over at it, “I mean, when we split up to look for stuff to burn, it was like… you know. We were being watched. Like almost everyone’s said,”

“EMF was kind of hovering on background activity,” Dean said, pulling it out of his back pocket and slapping the side of it when it didn’t do anything, “I still say they’ve not shut the electric off entirely round here, and that’s at least part of the reason why there’s all this sparking and stuff,”

“Yeah, but… after all this time? Surely there’s a utility company out there with money draining away or something? Got to be some kinda cost stacking up if that’s the case, right?”

“Maybe not enough for anyone to really notice,” Dean shrugged, frowning at the EMF and pulling at what looked like a loose wire in its casing, his eyes widening when the whole thing suddenly flared to life. As the dial whined with the effort of turning and all the lights along the device’s top edge flared red, Dean took a step closer to the House of Mirrors and held his hand out towards it, wincing as that whining became a screech.

“‘K,” Sam said, with a sharp nod, “well, unless all the cabling for this mystery electricity’s sat directly under here, guess we can scrap that idea,”

“Maybe both things,” Dean shrugged, his flashlight lingering over the faded House of Mirrors sign again for a second as he pressed the EMF against Sam’s chest in passing, then stepped forward to gingerly climb the broken steps, “guess here goes nothing,”

“Wait,” Cas called out in concern.

“What?” Dean answered once he’d climbed to the top step, turning to shrug at him, “It’s what we came here for, right?”

An odd sensation hit Dean’s lower back then, his jacket feeling as though it was being bunched up in a fist in his lower back, whilst a twisting, tingling feeling shot through his middle, and began radiating outwards in tiny vibrations that weren’t particularly painful, but seemed to grip him in place, punching through him with an odd, cold burn.

“Dean,” Cas called out again, more urgent this time, and Dean had a second to raise his head from where it had dropped to look down at his stomach, before he was yanked backwards, crashing to the House of Mirrors floor, and seeing nothing but thick black smoke billowing to fill the space above him.

* * *

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr-ers, if you're rereading this; this chapter contains the results of one of the final polls :) thank you again! (slight spoiler for which poll it was is in the end notes - but it's fairly obvious once you read it) x

Dean’s first thought when he looked up, was that there had to be a fire nearby for the amount of smoke that was filling the House of Mirrors. His second was a reminder that both the door, and much of the roof were missing, so there was no real reason for him to be trapped. And the third came when his eyes adjusted to the dark, with the realization that there was a smoke-shaped hand creeping closer and closer towards his neck.

Dean pushed back, scuffing across the floor, hissing at the uneven surface and sure he could already feel a handful of splinters digging into his skin. He rolled over and groaned, head as close to the floor as possible to avoid the smoke, yelling out when something grabbed around his ankle and dragged him backward, knocking his balance and dropping his face to scrape his cheek against the floor. Righting himself the second the grip dropped, he rolled back over and scrambled to his feet, dropping immediately for the lungful of smoke he’d taken in. Flaring through that smoke were small sparks of flame coming out from where Dean presumed cabling and sockets might be, but they nowhere near big enough to be justifying the blackness that filled the space around him.

From a crouched position, Dean glanced up, just about able to make out where the smoke seemed to fill the void of the missing ceiling, then over to the doorway where it was doing the same. There were a couple of beams of light there that he assumed must be Sam and Cas trying to find a way in, and he thought maybe he heard the muffled sounds of their voices calling to him, but it was too faint to make out. His mind became heavier, and Dean struggled to try to think his way out, falling to the floor where he tried to suck in fresher air, but only ended up sat back on his haunches, coughing uncontrollably. A hand grabbed at his arm, and though he tried to move to the side to shrug out of the grip, his draining energy meant he just fell back to the floor with a thick groan.

Curling back over on to all fours, Dean shrank back in alarm as the air suddenly became charged, and that creeping, burning feeling from when he’d first been dragged in came back, freezing him in place despite him trying to shake his head to clear it, and then falling back yet again, his hands coming to rest feebly on his thighs as he curled forward, attempting to suck in another breath. The entire hall lit up then, a soft, blue-hazed light that allowed Dean to see the smoke churning and swirling out of the cables and up the walls, and gathering in a thick concentration at the other end of the hall, that slowly shifted into the outline of a person. Dean tried to focus, though it was impossible to pick out any details, the urgency of trying to breathe whilst dealing with the mild electric current constantly coursing through him made any real thought impossible.

Trying to crawl forward again, Dean curled in on himself, with even the smallest of movements feeling as though both every nerve end was firing, and that he was moving through tar. Near the doorway Dean collapsed again, his face crashing to the floor and blasting another groan out of him, then sat back once more, hacking out a cough, wiping dust and who knew what else from his mouth. With not a moment's reprieve, Dean’s vision blurred, and he tried to raise his hands to rub the gritty feeling from his eyes, but his arms were too heavy, and his eyes seemed to be streaming no matter how many times he blinked the feeling away. And then the figure moved, a slow saunter towards him with an arm raising up and a hand reaching out just inches from his face. Dean closed his eyes, telling himself it was just for a second, already imagining the feel of an electric grip tight around his throat.

A disgruntled cry rang out then and was cut short; Dean cracked open one eye, and found the blue light gone, and the smoke that had filled the hall began to lazily billow outwards, both of the roof and the doorway to his side. He saw arms beyond the doorway waving their way through the smoke like they were trying to disperse it, then felt two sets of hands grip tight under his armpits to lift and hoist him out. Seconds later, and he was on his knees on the ground outside, moisture from the previous days of rain seeping into the denim of his jeans and wicking through them, as Dean curled forwards and hacked and coughed, sucking in huge gulping breaths of air. His hands squelched in the mud and he lost his balance, falling forwards a little, only to be pulled back and righted, a hand rubbing circles into his back as though that might help him breathe.

“I’m good,” he announced, though the words came out rasping, swallowing painfully as his throat continued constricting, his mouth parched as though he hadn’t drunk in days. It took him a while to register Sam and Cas speaking to him and over one another, checking to see if he was okay, and the second he made a sound that might have been in agreement were dragging him to his feet again, hooking his arms over their shoulders and all but carrying him back to the car.

In a blur of activity, Dean felt himself lowered into the front passenger seat, and an uncapped bottle of water pressed into his hand. He finished it in several greedy gulps, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, wincing belatedly at the sting of it and slumping further into the seat with a thick groan.

“Got keys?” he wheezed out, too tired to have noticed he wouldn’t be in the car if Sam hadn’t already dug them out of his pocket. Everything hurt, as though he had been both winded and sunburnt all at the same time, and the only thing he wanted was to pass out.

Sam waved the keys in front of him, then started the engine, and it was then that he realized Cas was crouched down beside him holding his hand, his thumb brushing over his knuckles as he looked up at him in concern.

“I’m okay,” he managed to blast out, though he knew it was unconvincing given the way he immediately curled forwards to resume coughing. Cas straightened up, swapping the hand he was holding and the other returning to circling over his back. Dean nodded after a minute to say that he was better, taking in Cas’ huff of disagreement but feeling his hands withdraw from him, and out of the corner of his eye seeing the car door slam closed.

“What happened?” Sam asked, the second Cas was seated, turning the car out carefully, and wincing as the wheels took a few seconds to find purchase in the mud.

Dean waved the question away, knowing he couldn’t form anything beyond a couple of words yet, closing his eyes and allowing his head to loll back against the headrest, jabbing a finger towards Sam so he knew to tell him his side of things.

“When we couldn’t get in—we tried; Cas almost got knocked to the ground when he reached out to touch whatever it was blocking the doorway—”

Dean did his best to turn to check Cas over, and Cas seemed to sense it, leaning forward to press a reassuring hand to his shoulder, then squeezing.

“We figured we’d try and break through either side of it, but the whole thing was charged; we couldn’t get anywhere close. So, you’d said about there probably being a permanent supply of electric installed to the carnival, right?”

Dean nodded to tell him he remembered, and allowed his eyes to close again.

“We found that; sorry it took us so long—”

Dean gestured tiredly at his watch, having no idea how long he’d been stuck in there.

“Not too long,” Sam assured him, and Dean felt him turn to look at him, “we were lucky; the supply box wasn’t that hard to find, ‘cos it was sparking and spitting out smoke everywhere, and we hit all the switches on the circuit breaker. That thing looks like it’s been started up a whole bunch of times, and half the wires were still intact; I didn’t wanna cut anything ‘cos I wasn’t too sure of what I was doing, but… figured hitting the switches would at least give us time to get you out,”

Dean nodded, swallowing painfully, reminded of reading somewhere how little time it took for smoke inhalation to cause permanent damage, and told himself how lucky he was, despite how crappy he felt. Dean realized Cas’ hand was still wrapped around his shoulder, and though he felt too sluggish to move much at all, he managed to raise his hand up to cover Cas’ for a few seconds and squeeze back, before it fell heavily into his lap again.

Dean listened to Sam talking, not really catching any of his words, too exhausted to do much of anything but grunt an occasional response. A little later, he felt himself jostled, thought maybe he’d mumbled in complaint, and woke to Cas cupping his face and crouching over him as he sat on a closed toilet lid, asking him softly if he wanted to shower. He nodded in answer, forcing himself to stand on shaking legs, hands steadied against Cas’ arms to keep himself upright. A glance down at himself, and Dean was trying to work out how to get himself out of his clothes. Sam stepped forward from the doorway, as though he’d been observing them but keeping his distance, and too tired to object, Dean allowed them both to help him strip.

Once in the shower, with one palm braced firm against the wall to keep himself upright, the other wrapped around the rail until he felt enough strength in his legs to let go, Dean glanced down to see swirls of soot disappearing down the drain beneath him. He soaped himself up half-heartedly, catching glimpses of scratches to his knuckles and a redness to his stomach, then closed his eyes under the stream, willing himself clean. When done, Dean carefully climbed out again, made a half-assed effort to dry himself off, then shrugged into the change of clothes Cas had left him.

Dean checked himself over in the mirror, saw the scraping across his cheek, turned and raised his t-shirt to see a few scratches along his back from the House of Mirrors floor, then stumbled forward with a groan. He took a moment to debate if it was odd wandering out into the main room in only boxers and a t-shirt—things he’d worn to bed in front of both Sam and Cas, yet not at the same time—then decidedly not caring.

When he opened the door, Sam looked up from where he’d sprawled himself out on the pullout, and Cas dropped his phone to the bed where he was perched on the very end, as though he’d only been pretending to distract himself waiting for Dean. He looked to Sam, debated making a glib comment on their sleeping arrangements, but took in the concern on both their faces and just nodded instead, stumbling his way over to the bed.

Dean sunk down into his pillow with a grateful groan, feeling the covers slid over him and mumbling his thanks at the squeeze around his shoulder that followed, burrowing himself in and sighing out in relief. He listened to Sam, and then Cas getting themselves ready for bed, saw the light go out behind his closed eyelids, then felt Cas climb in behind him.

Without hesitating, Cas shifted to press himself along the length of Dean’s back, wriggling himself comfortable, and obviously not caring that Sam was barely feet from them across the room. Too tired to worry, too sluggish to really work up any form of protest that he didn’t even feel, Dean grabbed Cas’ fingers between his own, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

When they were small, constantly waking in one motel room and falling asleep in another, Dean had developed the skill of knowing exactly where Sam was in that room, without ever having to open his eyes. So no matter how carefully Sam thought he rustled their box of cereal to steal a handful when he thought Dean was still asleep, or how quietly he thought he watched him when he’d returned late at night covered in scratches, bruises, or worse, Dean knew where he was.

In their current motel room, for instance, Dean knew with full certainty that Sam was stood approximately two feet from him, staring down at him with a look of open concern, willing him awake as he’d done countless times in the past.

“I’m fine, Sammy,” he slurred into his pillow, groaning at the rawness of his throat and failing to stop himself from beginning to cough. Cas’ hand tightened automatically against his stomach, and Dean took one second to worry what Sam might be thinking, then even less time to decide he didn’t care.

“You sure about that?” Sam answered, sounding doubtful, and Dean blinked until the gritty feeling in his eyes lessened, turning his head just enough to find Sam staring down at him, exactly where he’d expected.

“I’ll live,”

Cas’ fingers twitched in what felt like annoyance at his glib comment, and Dean closed his eyes again, feeling Cas stretch and force himself awake behind him. He cracked them open again as he felt himself beginning to smile for Cas’ disgruntled mumbling, darting up to catch Sam’s expression, where he seemed to be purposely looking elsewhere, yet unable to keep dropping his gaze to them laid curled up together in the bed.

Dean squeezed Cas’ fingers asking him to let go, then rolled himself over when there was room, taking a second to pinch at his eyes to try to rouse himself, then hauling himself up to sit. Immediately, he slumped forward, coughing, groaning at the effort and ache that seemed to make up the entirety of his body, huffing softly as Cas shifted beside him and rubbed a comforting hand up and down his back. His breath continued to rattle out of him as Sam and Cas looked on in concern, and Dean shook his head to it, finally feeling like he could get a full breath, and dropping back against the headboard with a groan.

“Maybe we need to get you checked over,” Sam said, turning to his bag and pulling out a bottle, pressing a couple of pills out onto Dean’s outstretched palm.

“I’m fine,” Dean said with a shake of his head, snatching up the bottle of water left for him on the bedside cabinet and grimacing as he swallowed them down. Cas huffed in disapproval beside him, and Dean turned enough to give him a look that was meant to be reassuring, then turned back to Sam. “Just a little smoke inhalation—”

“Exactly,” Sam agreed, “we should—”

“Not like we’ve not gone through it god knows how many times before,” Dean retorted, shaking his head more adamantly this time.

“But you are in pain. And have difficulty breathing,” Cas protested.

“Just need to rest up a little. Honestly; give me a couple more hours and I’ll be fine,” Dean tried to reassure them both. Even if he did feel like he could sleep for a month.

“So what even happened in there?” Sam asked, earnest and concerned, and Dean was still too tired to give any kind of reaction mocking him for it.

“Got yanked in there, that’s what happened,” Dean answered, his voice still hoarse. “It was like… all the cables were smoking, and the air was kind of… charged? I couldn’t move; I mean I tried, but… it was like it was zapping my energy, you know?”

“Then you perhaps suffered an electrical shock as well,” Cas said, sounding even more worried, and his fingers flexing wider against his back. “Do you have any burns, or scorch marks, or—”

“Yeah, alright, Doctor House,” Dean smiled, nudging into Cas’ side and laughing at his indignant huff in answer, which did him no favours; the second he started laughing, he was overwhelmed with coughing again, hacking and groaning, and wiping at his already-sore eyes until he could sit back once more. Cas muttered something indecipherable that Dean was sure was supposed to be a complaint.

“So what did you see?” Sam asked. Dean watched the way Sam’s eyes darted to Cas’—possibly receiving a look of disapproval—then back to his own, returning to sit on the side of the pullout, his hands wringing lightly between his knees.

“I saw the kid,” Dean answered with a sigh, “I mean, bastard tried to grab me a couple of times. _Did_ grab me,” he amended, and immediately felt Cas shifting beside him as though giving him space - or wanting to check him over for bruises.

“Don’t suppose you got a look at him?” Sam asked, really seeming to struggle to not keep looking over at Cas.

“Not enough of one to like, identify him with, or anything. Just… average-looking kid, I guess. Outline of one, anyway. Maybe… five-seven? Eight? Couldn’t really tell,” Dean raised his hand in an effort to try to determine the ghost’s height from memory, but dropped it again with a light thud into his lap.

“He say anything, or-”

“If he did, I didn’t hear him,” Dean shrugged, “just tryna keep breathing, you know?”

“We should allow you to get more rest,” Cas announced then, a soft look for Dean and a pointed one for Sam, staring him down until he stood up and raised his hands in defeat.

“I’ll go take a quick shower. Cas; wanna come with me to pick up some breakfast for us all?” Sam asked, already reaching into his bag to pull out a change of clothes.

“Of course,” Cas answered, and both Dean and Cas turned their heads as Sam shut the bathroom door behind him, then turned back to each other.

“I’m okay, you know. Really,” Dean said after they’d stared in silence for what felt like a good few minutes, but probably was nowhere near. Cas raised an eyebrow to show that he disagreed, but let out a relenting sigh, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, then slid out of bed. After a brief yawn, Cas was stretching, gingerly raising his arms up over his head and rolling his neck, unintentionally giving Dean a view to distract himself from his general feeling of _ache_ before he turned away, and began pulling clothes out of his bag.

“Sleep,” Cas softly ordered, when he turned back to him with a smile, tilting his chin towards Dean’s pillow, humming in approval when Dean took the hint and laid back.

* * *

When Dean woke again, he took a moment to try to work out when he’d fallen back to sleep, and then another to realize just how badly he needed to piss. With a grunt of effort and fighting back the cover that felt like it was made of chainmail instead of cotton and polyester, Dean managed to drag himself to his feet, wobbling for just a second before righting himself.

“Dean,” he heard rasped out urgently, turning to find Cas rushing around the bed with his arms extended as though ready to hold him up.

“I’m good,” Dean assured him with a slight wave of his hand that turned to a point in the direction of the bathroom that he stumbled towards seconds after. And the truth was, he _was_ good; he ached like hell, and it felt like he’d have a killer sore throat for a few days, but his strength was returning, and once he’d relieved himself and stood staring himself down in the mirror for a few seconds, all he thought he looked was really tired. The scrape to his cheek had begun healing into a scab, as had those scratches to his back, and on the whole, he thought he’d be back to normal fairly soon.

Cas didn’t seem to agree though, because the second Dean swung the bathroom door open Cas was standing there waiting for him, glancing him over as though checking for signs of injury, then raising his eyes to Dean’s and staring at him worriedly.

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean tried to reassure him again, clasping around his elbow briefly in passing and making his way back to bed.

“Dean,” Cas repeated again, scratchy and a little more urgent, “I need you to be honest with me. Because if you are sick, or you are injured, and you are pretending that you are fine, when you are not-”

“Cas,” Dean urged, turning back to face him and really taking in the concern etched in his face, melting a little for it, “honestly. I’m fine. Could do with not doing anything for a bit, but, other than that, I’m good. Really,”

Cas sucked in a breath and gave him a once over again as though needing to be absolutely sure for himself, then nodded, ushering Dean back to bed with a wave of his hands. “Sam renewed the room for another night, so there is nothing you need to be doing, besides resting. Are you hungry?”

“Uh. Not really?” Dean answered after pressing his hands into his stomach. Cas’ face morphed through various emotions and Dean blurted out an, “I guess I should eat though. Right?” to appease him.

“You should,” Cas agreed, “I thought perhaps soup would be best. I confess I ate the sandwich and drank the coffee we bought for you earlier, because they would be cold by now,”

“Sounds good,” Dean answered, smiling once he’d settled back against the headboard.

“I will… reheat this,” Cas said, turning back to him with a take-out pot and nodding to the door. Dean watched him leave, took a minute to check his phone for any messages, then picked up the EMF meter that had ended up on the bedside cabinet as well, and grimaced at the state of it, knowing he’d have to make another one at some point.

Looking down over his legs stretched out across the bed, Dean belatedly realized he was still in his boxers and a t-shirt, so jumped up with a little too much enthusiasm and came to a wheezing stop, holding himself up with a palm pressed against the wall. When better, he stooped down to retrieve a pair of jeans from his bag, leaning against the wall again when the room began to spin.

Cas chose that moment to come back in, taking one look at him and crossing the room in quick strides to carefully slide a tray holding the steaming soup down on the end of the bed, then snatching the jeans from Dean’s hands. He bent, rucking one leg of the jeans up so Dean could put his foot through the hole, then nodded for Dean to balance his hands on his shoulders as he wobbled into the other.

When the jeans were up, Cas nodded and turned away, leaving Dean to button them himself, and lifting the tray from the bed, waiting for him to sit. Dean thought of a few choice comments to make about being mother-henned, but somehow all of these actions coming from Cas were worlds different than the same care being shown by anyone else. Dean fought not to think on that too much.

It took so long to work through the soup, that by the time he’d gotten to the bottom of the bowl, it had gone cold again. Cas pulled the tray from his hands and pressed against his shoulder, urging him to stay sat, then took the tray back to presumably the motel reception, returning again with an ice pop that he unwrapped and handed to Dean without a single word.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mumbled around a mouthful of orange flavored ice, swallowing carefully and blasting out a small sigh of relief at the coolness in his throat. Cas nodded, then returned to his side of the bed and sat down carefully, snatching up the tablet that he’d obviously been using when Dean had woken up. “Where’s Sam?”

“Researching,” Cas answered, “he wanted to look for more information on the carnivals,”

“How come he didn’t do it here?”

“He said that the room is too small. And that he wanted you to rest,”

“Didn’t feel like research?” Dean asked with a smile, watching the way Cas’ fingers twitched around the edge of the tablet, and his face dropped as though studying it carefully.

“I wanted… I needed to know that you were okay. I wanted to… stay,” he stumbled out, finally raising his head to look back at Dean and glance over his face in uncertainty. “I hope… I hope that is, uh… acceptable,”

“‘Course it’s _acceptable_ ,” Dean smiled, a warmth flaring in his stomach for Cas’ words. “Thanks, for, you know… looking out for me,”

“Always,” Cas answered immediately with a look so earnest, Dean couldn’t drag his eyes away from it. “I admit that… that last night, I was _afraid_ ,”

Dean’s eyes fell at the sound of the tablet sliding from Cas’ lap to the bed, and lingered over way his fingers clasped together in a tight knot. “I know, Cas-”

“Sometimes I am… overwhelmed by the reminder that I can no longer heal you as I once could,” Cas continued, as though Dean hadn’t even spoken. “Sometimes I am… terrified by the thought of… of not being able to help,” and Dean didn’t need to hear the _you_ tacked on to the end to know he meant it.

“I know,” he agreed, that warmth in his stomach shifting, “I get that. I mean… ever since you went, uh, _native_ on me —”

Cas’ answering smile was amused, and affectionate.

“—I’ve been… scared as hell, that something might happen to you and there’d be… there’d be no way for you to fix yourself. I—” and Dean cut himself off, because the thought became too much. Countless hours he’d spent worrying about Cas not taking enough care of himself, or getting into a situation _he_ couldn’t get him out of, and that hurt. His hands slapped down on his thighs, and his breath came out in a sigh that soon turned into another bout of coughing, that for its intensity felt a little overdue, as though it had been put on pause.

Cas’ hand began its soothing trail over his back as it had done earlier that morning, and Dean was able to focus on that enough to suck in lungfuls of air, and make himself calm.

“I would… promise to be careful, if you would… if you would promise to do the same,” Cas suggested, when Dean looked up again, smiling at him shyly in a way that Dean couldn’t help return.

“Done,” Dean agreed with a nod, resisting the urge to lean into his touch.

“I would be… you are important to me, Dean,” Cas added, and staring him down as though trying to make him understand, “and I would be… I cannot imagine this world— _my_ world —without you in it,”

Dean’s heart decided to choose then to begin fluttering in his chest, so fast that he was sure it was going to steal the air from his lungs. “Me too, Cas,” he managed to stutter out when his tongue unstuck itself from the roof of his mouth. “All ‘o that, I… me too,”

Cas’ smile for him then was rewarding, and they held each other’s gaze for another minute before Cas stood abruptly again, fussing around him and insisting he try to sleep some more.

“I’ll do you a deal,” Dean bargained, already tucking back beneath the covers and silently reveling in the care Cas was taking of him, “you… you lay here with me for a bit, and I’ll try, okay?”

“Of course,” Cas said immediately, kicking off his shoes and lifting the cover to slide beneath it.

“I mean, you can read, or… or do whatever you want,” Dean blurted out suddenly, aware of how demanding he’d sounded. Cas gave him an amused smile, tilted his chin to show he wanted Dean to roll away from him, then slotted up behind him and threw an arm around his waist, a huffed out sigh hitting the back of his neck. Dean closed his eyes, smiling to himself, then settled back against him comfortably, allowing himself to indulge in Cas’ warmth.

* * *

 

> _“...He was shortish, and oldish, and brownish, and mossy. And he spoke with a voice that was sharpish and bossy. ‘Mister!’ he said, with a sawdusty sneeze, ‘I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees...’”_

Dean listened to Cas reading and found himself smiling, watching him in silence and feeling his chest swell with pride. And appreciation, of course, he laughed to himself; Cas had a voice _made_ for this kind of thing. Dean watched the small girl in a blue polka dot dress, who the story had been aimed at, as she first stood there mesmerized, then walked towards Cas as though by gravitational pull, standing with one hand balanced on his knee.

 

> _“...He snapped, ‘I’m the Lorax who speaks for the trees, which you seem to be chopping, as fast as you please. But I’m also in charge of the Brown Bar-ba-loots, who played in the shade of their Bar-ba-loot suits...’”_

Having finally relented to Cas’ insistence that he at least get some more medicine, they had come to the town’s pharmacy, which sat in the same building as the Urgent Care. Dean and Cas were in the lobby, waiting for Sam, who was over at the counter, frequently turning to look at Dean as he talked to the pharmacist. The lobby seemed to serve as a spill-over for the main clinic, with the children’s play area taking up a vast amount of the limited space. Cas’ audience, steadily growing by the minute, had started out as that one small girl, who'd been about three seconds away from having an almighty tantrum.

 

> _“...I, the Once-ler, felt sad as I watched them all go, but business is business! And business must grow…”_

Dean watched as another girl, who had been methodically lining up the small range of cars and trucks in order of height, paused with a bright yellow pickup in her hand, turning her eyes to Cas. And a boy, making flying noises as he whizzed around both an Iron Man and Wonder Woman figurine, dropped his arms quietly to his sides, then shuffled close to Cas, sitting cross-legged at his feet.

Cas continued reading, oblivious to all but that first girl, continually looking up to check on her, and echoing the smile he received.

 

> _“...’I am the Lorax,’ he coughed and he whiffed. He sneezed and he snuffled. He snarggled. He sniffed…”_

The kids weren’t the only ones mesmerized, Dean thought, finding himself smiling openly, taking in every nuance of Cas’ expression and indulging in watching him freely.

“Here. For you,” Sam said, breaking Dean from his focus on Cas as he read, looking down at the items now in his hands and examining the cough syrup, chewable vitamin C tablets, and a fresh box of Advil, noting the words _extra strength_ written on the side of it and sighing, which only made him cough again.

“Uh… sorry, Cas,” Dean said, standing and reluctantly getting his attention. Cas slowly raised his head to look at him, then quietly closed the book, belatedly noticing his small audience and smiling at each of them in turn, then standing to push the book back into its place in the short bookcase.

The moment they rounded the corner, Dean heard the beginnings of an angry, tantrum-fuelled wail, and grabbed Cas’ elbow, ushering him a little quicker out of the building.

“You’re pretty good at that,” he said, nudging into Cas’ arm as they headed towards the car, and earning a curious head tilt for his statement.

“At what?”

“Reading,”

“I can—”

“I meant, to kids,” Dean reiterated, waving a hand to ward off anything Cas might have been about to say. “You had ‘em pretty much eating out of the palm of your hand,”

Cas frowned at the expression, and Dean forced himself not to laugh, though in doing so, did set himself off coughing again. A cautious hand pressed reassuringly into the middle of his back, and Dean leaned into it for a second, then nodded towards the car.

“You know, Cas. When we get back to the bunker, you could… if you wanted to, that is. Like… there’s gotta be a library, or someplace nearby, that’d be happy to have you reading for them. Kids, I mean,” _and for me_ , Dean added to himself with a self-conscious huff.

“You think I could do that?” Cas asked him, smiling curiously at him from across the roof of the car.

“Yeah. I do, Cas,” Dean answered, ducking in, and waiting to hear Cas close his door behind him, “I mean, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but. You were a  _natural_ in there. And you said you were thinking about hobbies and stuff, so. Could be something for you,”

“What’s that?” Sam asked, halfway to turning towards Cas, though pausing to nod towards the things still clutched in Dean’s hands unopened. Dean sighed, twisting off the cap of the cough syrup and taking a mouthful, then taking the bottle of water from Sam’s hands and popping out a couple of pills.

“Cas just like… totally Jedi-minded a bunch of kids in there, reading,”

“I did not,” Cas objected, sounding affronted, “there was no duplicity or deception, and I had no control over—”

Dean forgot for a moment that he’d already made Cas sit through all the Star Wars movies, and dropped his head with a smile, which resulted in Cas’ words trailing away from him with a soft indignant huff.

“Uh…” Sam said, looking to Cas for an explanation.

“I was merely… _reading_. To the children,” Cas said, guardedly, aiming his answer at Sam.

“He’s good at it,” Dean added, nodding again, and catching Cas’ little pleased smile in the rearview before starting up the engine. He watched Sam turn in his seat fully and smile at Cas.

“Bound to be somewhere who’d be happy to have a willing volunteer to read,” Sam said, shrugging as he turned back around.

“We’ll look into it when we get back,” Dean said, smiling, “only if you want to,”

“I will… think about it,” Cas answered after a moment’s pause, soft, and sounding unsure of himself. Dean caught his eye in the mirror again and found himself winking, then forced his attention back to the road.

“You hungry?” Dean asked then, his own stomach gurgling in answer despite the rawness of his throat. He took in Cas’ quiet mumble and Sam’s enthusiastic nod, and started looking out for somewhere to eat.

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Sam announced once they were sat down to eat, “if we’re gonna figure this thing out, we need to find out what happened that night, and the only way we’re gonna do that is to find someone who was there working at the carnival,”

“And how’re we gonna do that?” Dean asked, already having considered the possibility, but his head too foggy to even begin putting any more thought to it. He hadn’t really been awake all that long, having managed to sleep almost the entire day, yet still feeling like he could sleep again at any minute.

“Here’s my guess, since we need to figure out where these carnival guys went after the fire,” Sam said, shifting in his seat in a way that told Dean to brace for a deluge of ideas. Dean held back the whimper of complaint bubbling up in his throat that he was just too tired to concentrate on anything, and gave a slight nod of encouragement.

So,” Sam nodded in answer, sucking in a breath, “it’s unlikely, given how… I guess, hostile, the folks here are towards— _have_ been towards, carnivals in the past —that anyone would have come into the town looking for somewhere to shelter. Or even, just, you know, ‘cos if their carnival’s up in smoke and they’re planning on disappearing, this is the last place they’d stick around. Right?”

“Right,” Dean agreed, finally bringing himself to snatch up a fry and chewing then swallowing carefully. He might be starving, but his throat still hurt like hell; he took a swig of beer to compensate for the stinging in his throat and gestured for Sam to carry on.

“So here’s what I’m thinking. There’s like, three options for how people would’ve left. One, not so likely; since the average person can walk, what, 20 to 30 miles in a day? Say someone left the carnival on foot when the fire started and walked through the night,”

“They’d barely be out the state by morning,” Dean argued, shaking his head.

“Right,” Sam agreed, “so, option two: the carnival workers went off in whatever vehicles that weren’t tied to the carnival itself. Gotta be some of them that had their own cars and stuff, right?”

“Perhaps some left in motorhomes,” Cas added, pushing his fork around his plate as though he wasn’t all that hungry. Dean caught his eye and gestured towards the plate, raising his eyebrows, and receiving a small smile, as Cas finally scooped up some food and raised it to his mouth.

“Guess so,” Dean agreed, still watching, “I mean, that’d make a lot of sense, wouldn’t it? Some guy, family, whatever, shows up at a new carnival on foot or without their own transport; they gonna expect to be given a ride wherever the carnival heads to next?”

“Unless they’re only working one town with them,” Sam shrugged, and Dean considered that for a second then returned that shrug in agreement. “And anyway; I guess free accommodation is one of the perks of these kinds of jobs if people are working under the table, or whatever. So they can… bounce around until they feel like moving on without creating any ties,”

“Could work,” Dean said, snatching up another fry and eyeing it dubiously, “so what’s option three?”

“Option three,” Sam continued, “they left on foot, then hitchhiked, wherever they were going, wherever they ended up,”

“Yeah, but if the fire happened at what… around eleven at night? Say these guys all just took off and ran out of the place. Who’s gonna be picking up hitchhikers in the middle of the night? Hell, how many people are even gonna be on the road _to_ pick up anybody?” Dean added, shaking his head and discounting the idea immediately.

“I admit, it’s probably unlikely,” Sam replied, raising his hands up, “which is why I’m more than certain what happened was probably a mix of things—but mostly option two. People would’ve maybe given lifts to other people, kind of… pooled transport to get them out of here in a hurry,”

“How’d they make a decision like that, huh?” Dean mused, mostly to himself. “To just... abandon the place like that. If it was their livelihood—”

“Guess the owners didn’t wanna deal with whatever consequences,” Sam shrugged again, taking a sip of his beer. “Maybe all kinds of other stuff happened leading up to that, and they just… gave up,”

“I don’t recall seeing anything at the carnival that would have served as… accommodation. Personal transport,” Cas said then, looking at Dean as though the idea had just come to him.

“No, me neither,” Sam agreed, giving a pinched smile when Cas turned his head to look at him, “so I guess that makes the case for them to have taken whatever transport they had and just… leaving,”

“Well that’s good and all, figuring out how they probably left, but how’re we gonna work out where they ended up?” Dean asked. “It’s like… there’s got to be hundreds… probably thousands of carnival shows each year, right? If there’s something like 300 million visitors? That’s a helluva lot of ground to cover,”

“Well, odds are that these guys wouldn’t have gone to one of these regulated carnivals. Like… if they were trying to avoid being found, they’d probably just look for a similar thing like they’d just come from, right?”

“Right,”

“And however they left, I can’t imagine they had a whole bunch of cash to get very far with. They’d run out of fuel if they were driving, they’d… not be able to give anything to anyone giving them a lift. They’d need food, shelter, and so on,”

“So you’re saying we should look for towns closer to here?”

“Nearest towns to here are no more than about… 30 miles away, max,” Sam said, holding up a finger telling Dean to wait then rummaging in his pockets and pulling out a small notebook. “All of them are reachable on foot if necessary, or are close enough to get to hitchhiking without any trouble—or to drive. I pulled up some of those ‘things to do’ lists online for the week around the same time as the carnival was here—and three of them had carnivals at the same time, or a carnival due to arrive within the next week,”

“So how would these guys know where to look for these other carnivals if they’re tryna keep it low key?”

“Think about it; a lot of these workers must hop around a lot. Bound to know someone who knows a guy who could get them in, and all that. Word of mouth, maybe, that sort of thing,”

“I guess,” Dean agreed, though not entirely convinced, “but if it was five years ago; they’re prob’ly gonna have moved on by now, right? Gotta have done,”

“I know, but we’ve gotta start somewhere. If what happened to you happens to the kids that go up there—if the town’s adamant they won’t strip the thing down—”

“It is irresponsible that they would… leave it there,” Cas added, a little more earnestly than Sam.

“I wasn’t saying we should give up,” Dean said, holding his hands up in defense and turning to pointedly look at them both, “I’m just… making sure we don’t send ourselves off on a wild goose chase, is all,” and Dean waited until Cas nodded back at him before gesturing for Sam to continue once again.

“Alright,” Sam said, looking between Dean and Cas with a look of mild exasperation, “so we’ve got: Cottonwood, at 14 miles from here, carnival by the name of The Duchess. Midland, at 30; carnival was called Frank’s Funfare. And Kirkley, 22 miles away, more or less. That one was called Donny’s,”

“So, what, we track these guys down, if they’re still operating, see if there’s anyone around that remembers _this_ carnival from five years ago?” Dean said, sounding incredulous, though he didn’t really see any other way himself. “That’s probably changed names a bunch of times before that?”

“What else have we got to go on?” Sam shrugged, as though waiting for Dean to give him a better suggestion. Dean relented and sighed, still toying with the food on his plate, talking himself into taking another bite.

“Okay… so where are _The Duchess, Frank’s_ , and _Danny’s_ now? Any idea? Give me like… distance in driving time,” Dean added, casting a furtive glance over at Cas and thinking about him being uncomfortable cramped up in the car for too long. Cas gave him a small smile back saying he understood what he was thinking.

“Actually, yeah. Maybe,” Sam said, pausing to flick through his notebook and tapping at it. “The Duchess is still _The Duchess_ , and they’re… eight hours from here more or less?”

“Not too bad,” Dean cautiously agreed, looking at Cas out of the corner of his eye.

“Frank’s is now _Crabbe’s Carnival_ ; they’re gonna take about... eighteen hours, if we don’t stop at all,” Sam said, already flicking over the page as though dismissing the idea.

“Which we’re gonna, wherever we head,” Dean added; no way was he driving for that long, and he didn’t like to think of having to unfold Cas from the car if he was sat that long either.

“Right,” Sam agreed, “and the last one is _Wacky Races —_”

“Like, _the_ Wacky Races?” Dean asked, with a half-laugh.

“Guess so. I mean, they’re not gonna care what name they use if they keep changing it, right? This one’s... 12 hours from here, if we drive nonstop,”

“Which we won’t,”

“Which we won’t,” Sam agreed again, a confused smile turning up his lips for a second before he shrugged.

“So, Cas,” Dean said, turning to face him and fixing him with a look that pleaded with him to think of himself, “what’ll it be? The Duchess, Crabbe’s Carnival, or Wacky Races?”  

“Should we not wait until you have fully recovered until we make a decision?” Cas asked, abandoning his fork to his plate and looking at him worriedly.

“I’m fine,” Dean insisted again, reaching out and snatching up his fork, spinning it until Cas reluctantly took it from his fingers, “‘sides. If we’ve got another day in this motel, I’ve got all of tomorrow to ‘recover’,”

“I still think you should allow yourself more time,”

“Cas—”

“We’ll short straw it, okay?” Sam interrupted, another exasperated look between the two of them, then leaning behind him to the table full of salt sachets, napkins and straws, snagging three up. “Back in the motel room, I’ll-”

“It does not matter which we choose if you are not well enough to drive,” Cas countered, looking at Dean beseechingly, then turning to Sam as though asking that he back him up.

“If I’m still like this in the morning—sleepy, and stuff,” Dean quickly amended for the worried look Cas gave him all over again, “then we’ll… push it back another day if we need to. Okay?”

Cas seemed to either be sucking in a breath or holding back something he didn’t think Dean would want to hear, then relented with a nod, dropping his head back down and concentrating on his dinner without another word. Sam looked back at Dean wide-eyed, silently asking what was wrong, and Dean shrugged, not able answer him.

When they were finished, having eaten their meal in continued silence, Sam mumbled about going up to pay, and Dean and Cas slowly stood, tucking their chairs under the table at the same time. When he was done, Sam nodded towards the door, and the three of them walked back to the motel with barely anything above small talk.

Outside their room, Dean grabbed Cas’ arm as Sam opened the door, tilting his chin at Sam telling him they’d follow in a minute. Once the door was closed, Dean gently spun Cas to him, and let out a heavy sigh.

“What gives, huh?” he asked softly, glancing all over Cas’ face for some kind of sign that would tell him what was happening.

“Nothing _gives_ ,” Cas denied, making eye contact for just a second then snatching them away again.

“C’mon—”

“I am just concerned that you would be willing to push yourself too hard, before you are ready,” Cas answered, mostly to his shoulder, without looking up.

“Cas—”

“This is what you _do_ , Dean,” Cas said then, looking back at him in exasperation, “you never allow yourself time to recover; you push, and you push, and—”

“Did I not just say I’d see how I felt in the morning before we really plan anything?” Dean interrupted, smiling at him, and raising his other hand up to grip around Cas’ arm.

Cas looked back at him in silence, seeming to be studying him, before exhaling hard. “Make sure you do,” he said, firmly, daring Dean not to agree with him.

“Okay—”

But Dean was cut off again by Cas grabbing him suddenly and pulling him in for a tight hug, his head tucking in to Dean’s neck, and his fists bunching up the back of his jacket. Dean was slow to raise his hands, surprised by the gesture, but quickly leaning into it, gripping on just as tight, and closing his eyes as he allowed himself to shuffle a little closer.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story Cas is reading is, obviously, the wonderful The Lorax by Dr Seuss. Love, love, love that book.


	10. Chapter 10

“So Cas,” Sam began, and Dean caught the tone of it and had to turn to look, catching his smirk as he glimpsed back, then turned his head to look out the window, “you missing your bed yet?”

Dean resisted the urge to swipe out at him, bracing for what was bound to be a barrage of teasing about him and Cas sharing a bed. He was better now, his throat no longer a scratchy mess of hacking coughing, and the urge to sleep constantly mostly under control. Which meant, of course, open season to Sam.

“It is more… comfortable than the last two I have slept in,” Cas said, carefully, catching Dean’s eye in the rearview for a second before darting his eyes elsewhere.

“Plus, you don’t have to share it,” Sam added, that smirk growing, “I mean, unless you _want_ to, that is —”

“Sammy,” Dean warned, which just seemed to make Sam smile all the more.

“I have had no objection to sharing a bed with Dean,”

“No, ‘course not,” Sam muttered to himself, turning to look out of the window again. Dean felt torn between not knowing if he should be feeling any kind of offence to Cas’ words—which he knew he shouldn’t be—and the urge to shove Sam really hard for being such a brat.

Yet another night had passed where he and Cas had fallen asleep together with little difficulty, at first sticking to their own sides of their bed, only to gravitate closer in the night. Dean had woken yet again to Sam staring down at him with a bemused look creeping over his face, and Dean had said nothing; what was he supposed to say when Cas was pressed tightly into his side, practically sleeping on his shoulder?

“Back in the bunker; sometimes when I am alone in my room, it is… too quiet,” Cas added, and Sam’s face whipped back around, his expression switching from teasing to contrite.

“Without the whole… angel radio thing?” Dean asked, feeling guilty despite not being able to do anything able it.

“Yes,”

“So being human’s kind of, not… loud enough for you?” Sam checked, now peering back over his shoulder with clear concern.

“In some ways,” Cas allowed, tilting his head, “and yet in others, humanity is… exceptionally loud,”

“Bet it’s taking a bit to adjust, huh?” Dean said, sending a pinched smile into the mirror when Cas raised his eyes to him again.

“It would be infinitely harder had I not had you both to assist me,”

Dean sent him yet another smile in answer, and tried to keep his focus on the road ahead.

“Anything you’re missing about it? Being an angel, I mean?” Sam asked, and Dean wanted to kick him for it. Cas talked in his own time, when he was ready, and clammed up tight whenever they probed too much, he knew that—they _both_ knew that.

Furtive glances in the mirror caught Cas’ brow furrowing in consideration of Sam’s words. “Not… entirely,”

“No?”

“I had not been a… _true_ angel, for quite some time. There were things when I initially lost my grace that I...” and Cas’ head dropped down as he seemed to think over his words; Dean imagined him playing with his fingers in his lap, something he’d seen him do multiple times over the past few months, then darted his gaze away from the mirror when Cas looked up again. “That I thought, I would not know how to exist without,”

“But you learned to,” Sam continued for him, with pride in his voice.

“I did,” Cas agreed, smiling when Sam turned around, “I did learn to be without them. And by the time I became human _this_ time, there was little I… nothing, I suppose, that I would not willingly give up,”

“Immortality’s sort of a big deal,” Dean objected, to which Cas gave a soft smile.

“It is… there was a time when immortality was not something I even had to consider. I just _was_ ; but I existed for a single purpose then—to serve. So immortality was… central to that. When I… interacting with humanity changed that for me. I began to experience things—emotions, that… changed that outlook,”

Dean told himself not to feel guilty for that, that it would be selfish to believe he’d personally had such an influence. “Yeah, I get that, I think, but… what about healing and stuff?”

Dean could feel Cas’ gaze on the back of his head, and adamantly refused to turn around. For all of the previous day, he had lounged around barely doing a thing, besides watching videos on the tablet in between numerous naps. He’d woken several times to Cas either sat beside him, or staring down at him in concern, and had let him fuss over him without a single complaint. Cas’ wistful mumblings of how he wished he could do more to help came back to him then, leaving Dean feeling guilty for that instead.

“I would prefer that there were no situations that required me to either heal, or be healed,” Cas answered with, eventually, “though I suppose, if anything, if I had to choose one aspect of being an angel that I could carry with me now, then yes. It would be that,”

“But you’re doing great, you know that, right?” Sam told him then, turning practically all the way round in his seat and smiling, open and warm.

“Thank you,”

“It’s true,” Dean added, feeling stunted in his own choice of words, “I mean, it’s a hell of a life you picked to have, being stuck with us and all, but… but we’re glad you’re here. And like Sam said; you’re doing great,”

Cas’ curious stare at him then Dean could neither avoid nor pretend he’d not earned, but smiled briefly to cover it up anyway, and tapped his thumb against the steering wheel for a distraction, itching to shove a tape in the deck to cover his awkwardness.

“As I have told you, I am happy to be here, Dean,” Cas said, low, and precisely spoken so that Dean was forced to look, whether he wanted to or not.

“Yeah, I know—”

“I am… content, being human,” Cas added, still attempting to hold his gaze.

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean tried to assure him, “just sucks if you got stuck here like this if you didn’t want it, is all,” Dean said, another brief glimpse in the rearview to see Cas shake his head.

“I do not feel _stuck_ ,” he argued, catching Dean’s eye.

“Well, maybe not stuck,” Dean amended, shifting a little, “maybe just… I don’t know. That—”

“I enjoy being human, Dean,” Cas added, a little more firmly, and Dean caught the look his face that seemed to be willing him to understand.

“Well, sure, what’s not to like,” he quipped, giving a half-smile, “all the food you could want. Infomercials 24-7. The—”

“I appreciate the choices I have now,” Cas interrupted, staring back for another second then looking out the window. “If I choose to sleep later than I need to, I can. If I want to change my appearance, I can go a store and choose… anything I feel like wearing. Choosing a vessel is not… it does not offer that freedom. And more than that; my choice of clothes only impacts _me_. I am not responsible for another person’s life by… by _using_ them as I once did,”

Dean thought to himself that not all of that was strictly true, since a lot of Cas’ choices in clothes impacted _him_ pretty hard, but thought it was something he probably shouldn’t be sharing, then cursed himself for being an idiot.

“I can choose what to eat, where to go. To study, acquire new knowledge. To be sad, or happy—”

“Yeah, but… sometimes you don’t get any choice in that,” Dean countered, and Cas turned back to look at him with a soft smile.

“True,” Cas acknowledged, nodding, “however, I can _feel_ sad, and happy, and all kinds of emotions, that… that I would never have experienced as an angel,”

“You telling me you didn’t feel anything as an angel?” Dean asked, his heart giving an unnecessary, disappointed thud.

Cas observed him for a moment, opening his mouth to speak and then stopping himself, as though changing direction. “I did. I felt… many things. Many things that I… that I took a long time to truly understand,”

“And?” Dean prompted when Cas didn’t continue, finding himself holding his breath.

“Before I met you, Dean. Before I met you both,” Cas amended, glancing over at Sam; Sam turned his head a fraction and smiled, waving a hand in acknowledgment, “before then, I did not… emotion was not something I had ever truly experienced. It was unnecessary,”

Dean let that sink in for a moment, filling the car with what he felt was an awkward silence, and considered changing the subject, though was unable to let the subject drop. “So you’re saying we kind of corrupted you, then, Cas? Like… sullied you or something?”

“You freed me, Dean,” Cas argued, earnest, and grateful, “or rather, you taught me how to free _myself_. You allowed me to experience… things I had never considered I would get to experience. Things that I never thought I would _want_ to experience,”

“And that’s _good…_ is it?” Dean prompted, wincing at himself for the reassurance he so obviously needed.

“Yes,” Cas replied emphatically, smiling wider for it, “yes, it is,”

“So that’s why you don’t feel, uh, stuck here?” Sam asked, turning a little in his seat again.

“Exactly,” Cas beamed at him, and Sam seemed unable to avoid echoing it.

“So… I know you don’t like talking about it, but—”

“I was given an ultimatum,” Cas said, his eyes lingering on Sam’s for a second before turning back to Dean’s in the mirror, answering his intended question, “I was called back to heaven. I suppose you could say I was summoned to a… council,”

Dean watched Cas as he tilted his head, seeming to be considering his own choice of words. “So what happened?”

“I was asked to choose,”

“Choose?” Sam asked, turning around a little more in blatant fascination; Dean gritted his teeth for it, though couldn’t really justify to himself why. Only thinking that he’d sort of expected this conversation to be just between the two of them. Private, maybe.

“Yes,” Cas agreed, turning back to Sam with that same smile, “I was offered… full reinstatement as an angel. I suppose you would say, with all of the _perks_ ,”

“You had to choose between getting powered up or being with our sorry asses?” Dean laughed, though without humour.

Cas turned to watch him in the mirror once again. “My choice was between Heaven and Earth. Angel and humanity. I chose humanity, and when I arrived here, I…”

But Cas’ voice drifted away as his face turned to the window once more, and Dean saw his shoulders lift in a shrug, heard the soft slap of his hands falling down into his lap.

“What?” he prompted, too anxious to hear what Cas had to say.

Cas turned back to stare him down, and Dean’s breath caught all over again. “I chose humanity. I chose to live. And then I made the choice to… to be with you. Both,”

Dean wished more than anything he wasn’t trying to interpret the way Cas stumbled over the adding of that last word. That he wasn’t reading into his words all kinds of things that he _wanted_ to hear, when they probably weren’t anything close to what Cas meant. But more than that, he wished again that he was having this conversation with Cas alone, in some place far away from there, where it was just the two of them. Where he would maybe find the strength to get his own words out.

“So basically what you’re saying is, you chose to come home,” Sam summarised for him, and was rewarded with another beam of a smile that Dean felt a stab of jealousy for not being on the receiving end of. But Cas turned to him anyway, staring once again as though he was trying to tell Dean something without saying a word out loud.

“Yes,” he said, soft, and pointed, and Dean spent the next half an hour trying to work out what that might mean.

* * *

“Here,”

Cas looked at the soda Dean stretched out in offering and gave a half-smile in thanks, sucking on the straw with that look of concentration he always had when trying something new.

“It is sweet,” he observed, frowning down at the cup before taking another sip of it.

“Good sweet or… bad sweet?” Dean asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Good,” Cas decided, though darted his eyes over to Dean’s coffee as well; Dean rolled his eyes and offered it to him, though Cas turned it down reluctantly and continued with his own drink, stubborn since he’d specifically asked Dean to get him something _different_.

They had stopped off halfway into their drive to find The Duchess carnival, with Dean wanting to stop much earlier, yet Cas’ insistence adding miles with his reasoning, until Dean announced _he_ was the one that needed a break. He’d watched Cas carefully for any signs of discomfort as he’d climbed out of the car, and though there was a slight stiffness to his movements, could not see any real evidence of him being in pain.

Currently, they sat on a small wall outside a service station having rested, staring out at passing cars in silence, and Dean took a moment to imagine they were just out on a road trip somewhere, with nothing to do but travel. Frequent furtive glances to his side showed him Cas at rest, peaceful as he turned his face up into the breeze with his eyes half-closed.

“You doing okay, Cas?” Dean asked, nudging against his side. Cas nodded, humming around his straw. “Not, uh... this journey’s not too much?”

“I am fine,” Cas assured him with a tight smile, “you should be more concerned for yourself,”

“Yeah, well, just so happens I’m fine too, so…” Dean shrugged, dismissive, and teasing for the way Cas shrugged him off. Cas rewarded him with a bigger smile then, rolling his eyes. “You don’t get the monopoly on worrying, alright?”

“No, I am sure I can always count on you to defend that position,” Cas replied with a raised eyebrow. Dean lifted his hands up in defeat and laughed, then nodded towards the Impala.

Dean leaned against the car, closing his eyes and tilting his face up, catching the breeze, shivering slightly into his jacket. Cas walked away for a second to throw his cup into the trash then returned, watching him as they waited for Sam, who seemed to be taking an age to find and use the service station restroom.

Dean stood perfectly still as Cas glanced him over, his eyes narrowing a fraction that probably only he would notice, with a slight look of exasperation lingering around the expression that had Dean wanting to ask a thousand questions, but didn’t.

“It is… different,” Cas announced after another moment, the word clearly deliberated on and not found quite right enough for what he wanted it to mean.

“What’s different?”

“You. Me. This,” Cas said, with a small sigh and a flick of his hand between them that left Dean shuffling awkwardly on the spot, scared of what he might mean, or might not.

“Different how?” and Cas stared at him for another minute, his eyes narrowing a little more noticeably this time before he sighed again, half-turning from Dean, then coming to lean beside him.

“When we used to talk. When I was still an angel,” Cas amended, turning his head to the side to look at him, “I respected your privacy. I never… aside from when it was necessary, or urgent, I did not read your thoughts uninvited. I suppose you would say that I… I put up a wall so that I _could_ not,”

“Okay,” Dean agreed, cautiously, “thanks for that. But—”

“It did not prevent everything that you were thinking from being heard, however; at least in part,” Cas continued, giving a brief squint that Dean found his breath catching on.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Cas said, sounding mildly frustrated, “that I continued to… _receive_. Impressions, suggestions of your thoughts,”

“Oh,” Dean answered, because what else could he say? He didn’t know exactly what Cas was trying to tell him, and he sure wasn’t offering up an apology when he didn’t know what he was apologizing for. Though what kind of _impressions_ , he worried; the relatively innocent ones where he’d been desperately missing Cas but couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it, or the ones that ended with him so worked up _thinking_ about Cas, that he could only find relief from in the grip of his own hand?

“I did not pry, or go looking further into these impressions,” Cas added, with a brief flicker of a smile that Dean thought was supposed to be in reassurance, “nor could I confidently identify specific… meanings to them, all of the time,”

“But?” Dean prompted, telling his heart it was _not_ thudding in fear - or misplaced optimism.

“But,” Cas repeated with another sigh, “sometimes it was… comforting. To… obviously not _know_ your thoughts. But to get a sense of... _what_ thoughts you may be having,”

Dean shook his head, played Cas’ words over again and still found himself lost. “I don’t—”

“Have you any idea how… frustrating, it is. Not to have that certainty, that… option, I suppose. That… background noise, I think you would perhaps call it, that would once allow me to gauge your mood. Tell me _something_ about what you were thinking,” Cas said then, blatant bewilderment on his face as he looked Dean up and down.

“Just like a regular human, huh, Cas?” Dean smiled weakly in answer. “Just the same as any of us tryna feel our way through life. Second-guessing what someone else might be thinking or not,”

“Exactly,” Cas agreed, “I just wish…”

But Cas’ words cut off, replaced with yet more looks cast over Dean that left him feeling utterly lost.

“What?”

“I would not want to hear… _have_ angel radio again, not even for one moment. I just wish that… on occasion, at least, that I could… that I could know, exactly what it is _you_ were thinking; only you,” Cas settled on, his words becoming closed off, and guarded.

“You thought about maybe just asking me?” Dean retorted with a huff, though he shared Cas’ frustration; how many times did he wish he could figure _Cas_ out just by asking what was on his mind?

“Would you truthfully tell me?” Cas countered with a wry smile, tilting his head a little.

“I—I’d try,” Dean blurted out, not sure of anything else he could really say. Cas nodded to show he understood completely, but the smile twisted up into something wistful, and Dean didn’t know what to do to change it back again.

“Would _you_?” Dean blurted out, when their staring reached the point of being uncomfortable.

“Would I what?”

“Would you… if I asked you what you were thinking. Would you tell me? Exactly what it was?”

Cas paused for a moment, carefully considering his words. “Would you want me to? Even if it meant hearing something you did not really want to be hearing?

Dean’s stomach dropped in disappointment, though he did his best to mask it, to tell himself not to be putting words in Cas’ mouth, ideas in his head. “I’d… hope that you’d be honest with me,”

“Always,” Cas insisted, nodding, earnest and wide-eyed, “as I hope you are always honest with me,”

Through unspoken looks that clearly spoke of their own exceptions to that rule, they both nodded, gave brief smiles and further wordless pauses, before Dean cleared his throat, and clasped around his shoulder, laughably unable to find any words at all.

Sam returned then, breaking them from that staring, and Dean all but ran around to his side of the car in relief, climbing in without looking at either of them. Cas made eye contact with him briefly in the mirror, but other than that, nothing was said, and the silence grew too much for Dean to bear, forcing in the tape already resting in the deck and turning the volume up a little too loud to drown his own thoughts out.

* * *

The smell of the carnival as they walked beneath the balloon arch serving as its entrance hit Dean with a wall of nostalgia that he had a hard time justifying to himself. It wasn’t as though carnivals had ever been a regular part of his childhood, nor were they places he’d really made the effort to go to on the rare occasions he’d had the chance. But for a moment, maybe just for a moment, he could kid himself into thinking that he’d once _been_ just a kid, that there was a life he’d been heading for that wasn’t seeped in the barbarity he’d grown up thinking was normal.

Laughing at himself, Dean turned to find Cas turning his head this way and that in interest, evidently seeing a lot of things for the first time. He thought about suggesting they take a look around first, give Cas the chance to see anything before they started asking questions, then realised how pointless that was considering they could do both. Cas looked at him then with a small smile, and Dean caught himself imagining Cas could read his expression, if no longer his mind.

“So, we splitting up for this,” Sam asked, turning back from his couple of paces ahead of them, “or—”

“I believe it is a better idea to work together today,” Cas interrupted, and so obviously tilting his head in Dean’s direction for Sam’s benefit that Dean felt his cheeks light up with blush.

“Tryna babysit me, Cas?” he quipped, turning and attempting to keep a little sternness in his voice. Cas smiled easily, and shrugged.

“If that is what it takes to prevent you from pushing yourself,” he retorted. Sam, the traitor, snorted.

“Oh yeah?” Dean came back with, “how ‘bout—”

“Aside from less than 30 minutes break at that service station, you have driven all day,” Cas pointed out, obviously daring him to disagree.

“Yeah, but—”

“We are yet to find accommodation, so there is no guarantee that we— _you —_will have anywhere to rest this evening,” Cas continued, “and you have not eaten much besides—”

“Cas,” Dean said, stepping forward as he cut him off to grip around his shoulder, fighting back a smile, when with anyone else, he knew he’d be all but snarling, “stop. Okay? I’m fine. We’ll… how ‘bout we agree to stay here no more than a couple hours tops, then find somewhere to eat? And sleep? Okay?”

Cas stared back so hard Dean worried that Cas might be trying to tell him that _he_ was the one suffering, and was flooded with guilt.

“Yeah, better find somewhere soon, or you might end up sharing a bed again; who’d want _that_?” Sam teased, the joke clearly not old yet. His eyes widened before he raised his hand in a wave of dismissal and turned away from them, on receiving their joint glare.

“Or perhaps merely to avoid sharing a room with _you_ , again, Sam,” Cas replied mildly, looking him up and down when he spun back around, “it is almost impossible to _achieve_ sleep with the… gas you emit,”

“Shouldn't've let him get that chili stuff last night,” Dean added, leaning in to Cas’ side in conspiracy and nodding.

Sam opened his mouth to retort but apparently found nothing to say; Dean slung an arm around Cas’ shoulders and squeezed for a second before nudging him forward, laughing as Sam shrugged as though proud of himself, then knocked his arm against Cas’ when he spun to catch up with them.

On the drive over, they’d decided on a story to tell the carnival people they intended on talking to, one that was just as plausible and implausible as so many of their other tales. Dean and Sam were relatives of a guy they were trying to trace who they knew used to work on a carnival, but they’d lost contact years ago, and now wanted to re-establish that contact for a family funeral. Cas was a family friend tagging along for the ride, a role he’d agreed to without comment.

Dean realised then why he’d seemed so indifferent when they’d discussed it; if Cas had little intention of letting Dean out of his sight so he could _fuss_ over him the entire time they were there at The Duchess, then it would fit that he made efforts to be by Dean’s side, rather than going around on his own and asking questions himself. Inwardly, Dean groaned at Cas’ lack of subtlety, yet also felt his chest surge for it, turning an affectionate smile on a slightly-puzzled Cas before he could stop himself.

“We can kill two birds with one stone. Three, actually,” Dean said, nudging to get Cas’ attention, then pointing towards a short row of food trucks. “Eat. Talk to people,”

“And the third?” Cas asked, showing clear interest in the idea.

“Give you the whole carnival experience,”

“Maybe not the _whole_ carnival experience,” Sam added, nodding towards a ride with the lights flickering in and out, the music that was playing stuttering, and a chorus of complaint from the people stuck on the ride every time it jolted forwards and backward where it was stuck.

“Perhaps not,” Cas agreed, his head turning to continue watching the ride as they passed, then whipping back at Dean’s hand around his arm, towing him towards the first food truck to look at the menu.

“‘K. What’ll it be?” Dean asked, already reaching for his wallet.

“Sausage and peppers, get me a can of something,” Sam answered, tilting his head towards another truck, “I’m gonna get some funnel cake. Want any, Cas?”

Dean pointed to a woman passing with a funnel cake the second Cas frowned.

“Is it… good?”

“It’s sweet. Hot. Kinda sticky,” Dean answered.

“The caramel corn’s good too. Maybe a deep-fried Oreo?”

“I have tried Oreos,” Cas nodded, his eyes darting back to the menu he’d been studying and then towards Sam again.

“Not like this you haven’t. ‘K, I’ll get you one of those,” Sam announced, then walked away without another word.

“What are you having?” Cas asked, leaning briefly into Dean’s side as he did, still looking slightly bewildered at the choices of food around him.

“I guess… how ‘bout I get a couple things we can share, see if you like ‘em or not?”

Cas’ smile of approval had Dean stepping forward, and finally joining a queue.

“You drinking something?” Dean asked, when there was only one person in front of them.

“What do they have?”

“Usual. Juice. Soda. Coffee. Shaved ice?” Dean added doubtfully, pointing towards the display and pulling a face at the reminder of too much sugar mixed with brain freeze.

“I think not,” Cas said, and at the tone his voice, Dean turned to catch the way his face blanched, but before he could ask was called forward to order.

A few minutes later they were walking away, awkwardly carrying far more food than they could probably handle. Sam spluttered out a burst of laughter as he met them, his own hands also laden with far too much.

Between the three of them, they worked through curly fries, corn dogs, popcorn chicken, and mozzarella sticks, before starting on the mound of sugary treats Sam had bought as well.

“I like these best,” Cas announced, holding up his second ring donut, then proceeding to lick his fingers clean, as Dean did his best to not choke for watching the way his tongue darted out over them and in between.

After interviewing five different stallholders and turning up nothing, Dean glanced up to check the darkening sky, and wondered if the two hours they’d limited themselves to would be enough - or if they were going to end up finding out nothing at all. Sam nudged his arm then, pointing to an older man standing beside a sign reading _fish pond_ , and watched as he covered his eyes, pretending not to look as he helped a girl in pigtails hook her line over a plastic fish.

The three of them came to a stop and continued watching for a few minutes as the man worked his way around the stall, offering words of encouragement, and even blatant help to the young kids crowding around him, hanging on his every word. His head tilted back in joyful laughter as he pretended to keep missing the prize the little girl was pointing at, then handed her a teddy bear almost her height, waving away the concern of her parents who were desperately trying to explain to the girl that she’d only paid enough to win a smaller one.

“Can’t make much profit like that,” Dean remarked when they approached. The man looked them over then shrugged, giving a final wave to the girl as she called out to him in thanks and was led away by her smiling mother.

“Yeah, well, good thing I’ve never been in this for the money then, huh?” he replied, turning away again and crouching to high-five a tiny little boy as he swung his rod enthusiastically to show the bright red fish he’d caught. Sam held out his hand for the man to shake when he turned back, and began telling their story, as Dean discreetly watched Cas’ eyes light up with continual delight at the kids hooking their fish.

“So the last we heard is that he was working at this carnival that got burnt down,” Sam added, bringing Dean’s attention back to where it was supposed to be.

“I’m real sorry to hear about your uncle,” the man said with genuine sorrow in his voice, and Dean had to remind himself of their cover for a second before arranging his face into a suitable expression.

“Thanks,” Sam said, pinched-lipped and mournful, scarily good at playing his role.

“Fact is, I’ve only ever been with The Duchess,” the man added, nodding beyond their heads towards the carnival, “we hear a bunch of stuff from people passing through, working the circuit and all that, but personally, I don’t recall no talk about a fire. Fact is, most of us here at The Duchess are a regular crew, and we’ve worked together for years. I’ve been here more years than I care to admit,”

“We’ll just keep trying,” Sam smiled, beginning to thank him.

“Well, hold up,” the man interrupted, “don’t mean I can’t maybe point you in the right direction even if I don’t know nothing myself,”

“Oh?” Dean asked, watching as he turned away to give another prize.

“Worked with a guy here once,” he said, nodding to a thankful parent, “fact, I worked with him a couple of times, ‘cos he came back to us on two separate occasions. Reckon he might know more than anyone here can tell you today, ‘cos he worked carnivals for years, dozens of ‘em, all the way across the country, coast to coast. Don’t think he ever worked anywhere but here more than once; just liked to keep moving. Out of if now, mind, but, ‘m sure he wouldn’t mind you paying him a visit,”

“You know where he is?” Sam asked, sounding hopeful.

“How sure are you that he might know anything?” Dean countered, sending a look at Sam warning him not to get too enthusiastic.

“I mean, I can’t know for sure, but… guy worked on more carnivals than anyone else I ever met my whole life, so. Odds are, if someone’s gonna know something, it might be him,”

“So this guy,” Dean tried again, shifting his weight from side to side.

“If you wanna start somewhere, sure, give him a try. If the fire’s as many years ago as you’re saying, you’re gonna have to work your way through a lot of us older dogs to find out anything, anyway. See so many folks year in year out, ‘less you’re looking for it, everything can be kind of a blur,” he smiled, reaching down and throwing a stack of post-its on to the counter, snatching up a pen. “Alex is a good guy; Alex Wagner. That’s the name of his business; figure you can work out where he is since you’re already working your way around,”

Dean looked at the finger tapping at the scrawled details on the post-it and accepted it when offered, glancing the paper over before sliding it into a pocket. “You guys still in contact?”

“Not really,” he said, smiling, “saw him, gotta be… two, three years ago now. Somewhere out Midwest. Looked up from repainting one of the signs, and there’s Alex. Giving hell to the guy running the Ring Toss for cheating some kid out of their last dollar. Alex didn’t stand for any crap like that. Good guy,”

For another couple of minutes they exchanged a few more words, and received a final round of condolences, then turned away, agreeing to call it a day.

“So? What do you think?” Sam asked, the second the three of them were sat in the Impala.

“I mean… I guess we didn’t come here for _nothing_ , but… can’t help feeling like we’ve come all this way and are gonna have to just turn around again and head for this guy now,” Dean sighed, starting the engine and waving a group of teens across before pulling out.

“We could… find him. Call the guy,” Sam suggested.

“We could also ‘sleep on it’,” Cas added from the back, leaving Dean and Sam shooting each other a brief smile, though quietly agreeing.

“Guess no one wants to stop for food?” Dean asked, turning down a street as they headed into the town, looking out for a motel. The resounding groans of complaint he received in answer told him all he needed to hear, and at Cas’ forearm coming to rest on his shoulder as he pointed out a sign through the windscreen, he nodded, and slowed the car down, taking a sweeping turn left to pull into a mostly-empty parking lot.

“I need to, uh…” Cas said, nodding towards the motel lobby the second they climbed out of the car, and walked away, with Dean watched him gesturing towards the restroom, and the guy on reception waving him through. Dean watched him disappear, then hoisted both his and Cas’ bags over his shoulders. Sam’s eyes fell to them immediately, dancing with mirth.

“Whatever it is, stop,” Dean warned, slamming the trunk lid closed the second Sam had his own bag out.

“Next time maybe, you can just take the _one_ bag between you —”

“Sam—”

“Since I’m pretty sure that sweater he’s got on is one of yours. If you’re sharing a wardrobe now as well—”

“He was cold,” Dean protested, his voice coming out in an undignified crack.

“Not like you’re not _enjoying_ all this —”

“I swear—”

“What? It was cute seeing you snuggled up together like that the past couple nights,” Sam teased, grinning, and making Dean’s heart begin to pound in panic.

“Sam—”

“I just ask that you invite me to the wedding,” Sam continued, pressing a hand over his heart and pretending to be tearing up, “let me make tearful speeches about how happy I am my big brother finally got his head out of his ass—”

“Enough,” Dean growled, shoving at him, then swinging open the lobby door with enough force to make it squeak in protest, and ushering him in.

“Didn’t look like _either_ of you were complaining,” Sam added, and Dean pleaded silently for him to shut up, scared that any minute Cas would walk out, hear Sam making all sorts of insinuations and suggesting all kinds of things. Dean was never completely sure Cas got all of the teasing Sam sent in their direction, and if honest, couldn’t face the thought of being publicly brushed off, if Cas _did_ know, but didn’t want any of that.

“Fact of it is, I could use a bit of space, you know?” Dean added, not meaning it for a second. “After all day cooped up like that in the car, it’ll do us all good to have some alone time,”

“Not ever bothered you in the past,” Sam pointed out, smiling at him knowingly.

“Yeah, well, first time for everything. Looking forward to it actually; be good just to spread out a bit and get some peace, not roll over in the night worried I’m gonna knock someone out of bed,”

“Then we should take three singles,” Cas announced, making Dean jump half out his skin for his sudden reappearance there in the lobby with them. Dean turned towards Cas’ voice and resisted the urge to take a step back from the coldness of his expression.

“I—”

“Place is dead tonight,” the receptionist interrupted, drawing Dean’s attention to the smirk on his face, that told him the guy had observed their entire conversation and was entertained by it.

“Good,” Sam enthused, nudging at Dean’s arm to tell him to take out his wallet.

“I’ll do you three doubles for the same price. You guys are… kinda tall,” the receptionist added, his eyes stopping to linger over Sam in particular.

“Thanks,” Dean mumbled out, taking a minute to hand over his card, watching as it was swiped, and then as three room keys were slid across the counter.

“Rooms 15, 16, and 17,” the receptionist told them, nodding and handing over a receipt, then dropping back down into his seat, clearly no longer interested.

“My bag,” Cas mumbled, his tone flat, and Dean’s stomach knotted, catching the neutral look he gave him as he hooked his fingers under the strap and slid it off his shoulder, avoiding touching him altogether. Cas walked out first, leaving Sam to shoot Dean a surprised, apologetic grimace, then stumbled out after Cas on receiving Dean’s scowl.

In silence, they searched for their rooms, with Dean handing over a key to each of them outside the first door they came to.

“So—”

“Goodnight,” Cas announced flatly, after checking the number on his key, and closing the door in Dean’s face before he could say another word.

* * *

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

“Gonna talk to me, or slam the door in my face again?”

Dean took in the bags under Cas’ eyes and his overall appearance of not having slept as he opened the door, and fought the urge to barge in to the room uninvited, or worse, grab him up in a hug.

“Gonna say something?” Dean prompted, when Cas did nothing but stare back at him in silence. It had been a long night with next to no sleep for him either, though there had been an excess of cursing himself for letting his mouth run off and say stuff that he wasn’t even close to meaning. Exactly like he had done just then; he’d not _meant_ to sound so accusatory, and confrontational when Cas opened the door to him. The words he’d wanted to come out of his mouth, the ones he’d been rehearsing ever since he’d kicked his own door closed in frustration the previous evening, involved words like _sorry_ , and _I’m an idiot_ , and _please hear me out_. And he’d screwed that up that as well.

“I trust you slept well without anyone taking up too much space,”

Dean winced at the tone in Cas’ voice, but tried to stand his ground, claw back some kind of reasoning, because honestly, he shouldn’t have said it, and he hadn’t meant it, but it wasn’t really, honestly, that much of a big deal. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean it like anything—”

“Of course,” Cas agreed with a stiff nod. Dean grit his teeth to prevent a retort about him overreacting escaping, fearing it would do even more damage. He’d spent literal hours arguing both sides of it, and he still didn’t know which side he came down on, even if he did feel guilty either way. Though he had to do something to take that look from Cas’ eyes, before doing anything else.

“Look. How ‘bout we go get breakfast, and—”

“I’m not hungry,”

“You’ve not eaten for hours,” Dean protested, his eyes flitting to the tight curl of Cas’ hand around the door frame, blocking the entrance to the room.

“Neither have you,”

“Exactly,” Dean agreed, sharper than he’d been intending, “‘s why I said about us getting breakfast,”

“No,”

A small, uninvited growl of frustration forced its way past Dean’s lips then, which only seemed to add to Cas’ scowl. “Look. I get why you’d be pissed,” he tried, relieved at the sound of Cas’ hand skimming down the frame, and him finally stepping back.

“Oh you do,” Cas replied, an arch to his voice as he closed the door firmly behind them then turned back to continue glaring.

“Well, yeah,” Dean said, though truthfully, he really didn’t. He could understand Cas’ feelings being hurt—totally unintentionally of course—but the way he was acting, the anger there, he just didn’t get it at all. It seemed far bigger, to be fuelled by something greater than being offended by a stupid, offhand, glib comment.

“So. After almost a week of us… sharing a room… a bed together, you understand why I am… upset,”

Dean’s heart gave a loud thud of protest at the word _upset,_  and without thinking his fingers reached out to wrap around Cas’ arm. Cas flinched and pulled away from him, scowling harder. “Cas, I’m sorry, okay? I get it. I was only tryna get Sam to quit—”

“After a week where I had thought. I had _hoped_ ,” Cas amended, looking away from him, “that we were perhaps… progressing. Becoming more… comfortable with each other—”

“We—”

“When it is clear nothing has changed between us at all,” Cas finished, scowling, though looking more hurt than angry.

“But—”

“And you are embarrassed by the prospect of your brother assuming that there is something more to our friendship than what we currently share,” Cas blasted at him, setting Dean’s heart racing all the more. That was nowhere near what he was expecting to be accused of, and just about as far from the truth as it was possible to get.

“What?” he stammered out, trying to find the words to deny it, to make _sense_ of Cas’ accusation. “No, I-”

“Do you think I am oblivious to his continual… commenting, _teasing_ , about the way we behave together?” Cas continued, glowering, daring Dean to lie to him.

“Actually, I’d sort of hoped you were,” Dean mumbled, too afraid to be anything but truthful. Though his heart continued hammering away as he replayed Cas’ words. He'd barely allowed himself even a moment of thinking that their time together would mean as much to Cas as it did to him. But now—

“You did,” Cas said, coldly, interrupting Dean’s thoughts, narrowing his eyes a fraction more.

“Well, yeah, Cas,” Dean nodded, desperately trying to find the right thing to answer with, “I mean, I’ve got… _years_ more experience ‘n you of Sam just… teasing the hell outta me for… all kindsa crap. Just like I’ve always done to him. I didn’t… I _don’t_ want him to be winding you up about things he’s convinced himself he’s seeing,”

“...I see,”

“Well _good_ ,” Dean enthused nervously, Cas’ tone putting him even further on edge, “‘cos I didn’t mean anything by it. By _any_ of it. I didn’t… I didn’t _mean_ any of it at all,”

Which apparently was the very worst thing he could have said, given the way Cas turned from him then, quietly seething.

“Then I have been mistaken,” Cas said a moment later, and his voice then resonated nothing but dejection, as he kept his back very firmly to Dean, and moved halfway across the room. “I have been mistaken about… about so many things,”

“What?”

“Yesterday,” Cas said, whipping back around, his face contorting with hurt, and confused anger, “Dean, yesterday I told you that I was… frustrated, that I could no longer hear what you were thinking. That I… that I wished I _could_ know. When for the longest time… because of the things you _have_ thought in the past…”

But Cas’ words failed him, and oh how Dean’s stomach plummeted for the brightness suddenly flaring in his eyes.

“Cas—”

“I was mistaken in believing that perhaps you cared for me, as I have long cared for you,” Cas continued, calm and toneless, unable to make eye contact at all. Dean froze to the spot, hearing nothing but white noise, and seeing only the dejected curve of Cas’ back, the sigh across his shoulders that spoke of how much he was hurting. Dean shook his head to clear it and unstuck himself, crossing the room and coming to a nervous stop just a foot in front of him.

“Cas…” he tried, ducking down slightly to look at him. But the sorrow in Cas’ eyes as he lifted his head stole anything Dean might have been about to try to say to him. And Dean, desperate to fix what he wasn’t sure how he’d even broken, did the only thing that came to mind.

Without giving himself even a moment to second-guess himself, Dean lifted his trembling hands up from his sides, raising them enough to cup Cas’ face. And as Cas widened his eyes in obvious surprise for the action, Dean tilted his head down just the fraction he needed to, and claimed Cas’ mouth in a hard kiss that he hoped would go some way to proving to Cas he’d got it wrong. So completely, utterly wrong.

There were a couple of seconds when he pulled back to gauge Cas’ reaction, when Dean thought he’d still managed to make the biggest of mistakes. But then Cas was saying his name with a soft, broken kind of urgency and reaching for him, grabbing his face and returning that kiss, just as hard.

They stumbled together, clashing in a firm press up against each other, Dean’s hands finding their way to work through Cas’ hair as he’d imagined doing so many hundreds of times before. Cas’ hand first slid to cup the back of his head, then joined the other in looping around his neck, as he opened up his mouth to Dean and flicked his tongue against his in request, moaning as he licked his way in.

Dean dropped his hand, pressing it firmly into the small of Cas’ back and bringing them even closer, punching out a small gasp at the taste of him, and the way Cas chased and answered every angling of his mouth. He pulled at Cas’ shirt, first to swirl just his thumb over the smoothness of his back, but then greedily splaying his whole hand against it and trying to reach to feel even more of his skin.

Dean pulled back, ducking his head and pressing hard, open kisses up the length of Cas’ neck, and over his throat. And Cas groaned in answer, then wrenched his head back up into a kiss that was nothing but brutal, leaving Dean’s knees feeling like they might give out on him any second, and his hips twitching with no conscious effort, to chase the feeling of Cas, hard, and rutting back against him.

Cas growled then, the sound of it knocking even more strength from Dean’s legs, but pulled away from him abruptly, staring and panting as they both tried to regain their breath. Dean’s fingers jolted with the need to pull Cas to him again, but he didn’t move, just continued staring back and barely daring to breathe.

“Cas—”

“Go,” Cas snarled out, rage cracking his voice, and fury flaring in his eyes.

“What—”

“Go,” Cas repeated, marching over to the door and yanking it open with enough force to leave the hinges creaking. “You should leave. Before you do something _else_ you don’t mean,”

* * *

“Hey. Where’ve you been?”

Dean sat down in a daze opposite Sam without acknowledging his question, staring out across his motel room, though catching out the corner of his eye as Sam raised his head from what he’d been reading.

“Dean—”

“Cas,” he answered, with a thick, awkward swallow, darting a guilty look at Sam then turning his eyes elsewhere.

“He okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “find anything on this Alex guy?”

Sam’s disapproval of his changing the subject was palpable, but Dean ignored it, though was unable to hide the nervous twitch of his fingers against the table edge, or the way he was itching to just be _doing_ something.

After standing and staring at Cas’ door for a good five minutes, Dean had managed to drag himself away, heading to Sam as though on autopilot. And all he could think of on the 30-second walk there was that, only the day before, he and Cas had gotten closer than ever to actually _talking_ about things, or at least, opening up ways for them to begin to try and talk about them. And it turned out, Cas had felt similar about the whole past week. And in a stupid, meaningless, foolish moment of panic, he’d ruined it all, and in the process really hurt Cas. So he didn’t care about the case, or Sam’s disapproval, or about anything else at all, aside from distracting himself from what he’d done. Even though he knew he couldn’t.

“Actually, probably, yeah,” Sam answered after a pause, and Dean turned his head back to look at him, trying not to scowl.

“So?”

“Pretty easy,” Sam said with a huff of laughter, tapping at the laptop, then spinning it for Dean to see, “look at this,”

Dean glanced over the newspaper headline reading _local electrician saves carnival from disaster_ and scanned the article, then pushed it back with a tight nod.

“Not that far from here,” Sam said, “figure we could do it in a day,”

“Tomorrow?” Dean nodded, though didn’t honestly feel like going anywhere. He didn’t think he could concentrate enough to turn the key in the ignition, let alone steer the car out on to the road and drive.

“Uh… sure? Could even go today if you—”

“Tomorrow,” Dean repeated, “just got here. And I reckon we can get reception guy to let us keep the rooms another night for the same price, so—”

“Is Cas okay?”

“Why wouldn’t he be okay?” Dean demanded, his heart giving a painful thud. Then he thought of feeling Cas’ thudding hard against his chest, and had to shift in his seat for the discomfort it caused.

“Just asking,” Sam replied, holding his hands up in defense.

“Yeah, well. Maybe tomorrow, you and me can head over, see this _Alex_. Gotta be like… four hours, tops? Maybe leave Cas here —”

“You don’t think he’d want to come with?” Sam interrupted, surprised.

“Maybe give him the choice if he wants to stick around here or something. I don’t know,” Dean shrugged, feigning lack of interest then internally yelling at himself for it, “maybe he can check out the town. Do... Cas stuff. Whatever the hell that might be,”

“You… talked to him about this?” Sam prompted, the uncertainty in his voice forcing Dean’s eyes closed, though he soon opened them again for the images playing there behind his eyelids. Cas had felt so good, _so_ good when he’d kissed him; just as he’d always imagined he would, but better somehow, because for a second, Dean had allowed himself to just _be_ there with him. And if he rolled his lip, he could still taste him there, still feel-

“Nope,” Dean bit out, cutting his thoughts off, trying to deny himself even the memory of what had happened.

“Then—”

“Just think it’d give the guy a break. Not like there’s any real urgency on this now, is there? Anniversary of the fire’s passed, and the kids’ve been up in that place without anything happening for years now,”

“I mean, I guess,” Sam agreed, though so obviously doubtful that Dean was standing up to avoid his curious stare before he could even stop himself.

“Right. I’m gonna—”

“Dean,”

Dean’s attempt to leave, with the idea of storming out, walking it off, getting some clarity in his head, was stopped as it had so often been stopped by the soft, understanding tone of Sam’s voice. It was infuriating, because he didn’t want Sam to notice he was off, and hated that he was so obviously easy to read.

“What happened?”

Dean groaned to himself, sinking hard into his chair as though he’d doubled his body weight just by standing, and studied the curve of his fingers against his lap, unable to lift his head.

“Dean—”

“We might’ve had a… discussion,” he tried, wincing for how feeble it sounded.

“A discussion,” Sam repeated, and Dean still didn’t lift his head, knowing full well all he’d see was a disbelieving, disapproving scowl, “you mean a fight,”

“I wouldn’t call it _that —_”

“So what’d you do? Go in there all guns blazing or something?”

“I—”

“Look,” Sam said, his voice edged with frustration that said he was trying his hardest to keep himself in check, “I’m _sorry_. For whatever part I played in… whatever went down with you two last night,”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Dean grumbled out bitterly, though knew the largest part of the blame fell on _him_. He should have gone back to Cas last night, instead of leaving them both to stew in their own thoughts. Maybe they could have talked. Maybe what had just happened between them would _still_ have happened, though he’d still be there in the room _with_ Cas, instead of out there alone, trapped with himself.

“I can… talk to him,” Sam added, finally making Dean look up.

“And say what?” Dean laughed coldly, though scolding himself for the flare of anger that jolted up his spine.

“That I’m… sorry that me, uh… winding you up, led to him hearing stuff you didn’t even mean,” Sam tried, a hint around the expression on his face saying despite his words, he still thought Dean was in the wrong.

“Yeah, well—”

“Honestly? I can’t tell which of you is worse,” Sam laughed, shaking his head a little, even letting out a groan.

Dean scowled back at him and felt his fingers curl into fists automatically. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Sam repeated, “the way you two are together. Like… I’d have nothing to even get you worked up over if you’d just _do_ something about… about-”

“About what?” Dean demanded, though why his heart decided to start thrumming up a painful beat when Sam was only saying what was plainly obvious, he didn’t know.

“All this… _tension_ between you,” Sam said, scoffing, “it’s like… I thought it was bad when he was still all angel and it felt like you were having all these… conversations in your heads, that I couldn’t hear. Only now, it’s worse, ‘cos you’re doing the exact same thing, and not even _listening_ to each other,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Were you even in the car yesterday?” Sam laughed, that eyebrow raising further with incredulity. “Dean, he made a choice to come here, and be with us. Be here with _you_. I don’t know how many times he’s gotta tell you that before you _hear_ him,”

“That’s not what he said at all,” Dean protested, adamantly grumbling it out.

“He did,” Sam insisted, “he—”

“He wanted the whole human experience,” Dean interrupted, dismissing his words with a wave of his hand, “wanted the whole… I don’t know. Living, breathing, choice stuff,”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “and a big part of all of that is _you_ ,”

“Sam,” Dean laughed coldly, “not even I’m pigheaded enough to believe I’d be responsible for—”

“No one says you’re responsible for this,” Sam argued, shaking his head, “no one made him do anything,”

“Aside from the whole ‘choose angel or humanity’ thing,” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I mean,” Sam said, rolling his eyes in turn, “he could’ve… he could’ve gone off and done anything he wanted when he got here. But he didn’t; he chose you. And I don’t see—”

“How can you say that?” He chose humanity, not _me_ ,” Dean replied, raising his voice, “I’m not—”

“I’m not saying you’re the only reason he _chose_ to be human,” Sam said with increasingly less patience, “I’m saying, you’re the thing he chose to, uh… _do_ ,”

“Sam—”

“Think about it,” Sam insisted, forcing Dean to keep eye contact, “I’m not saying he’s not just as much of a stubborn bastard as you’re being about this, ‘cos he _is_. But if you two don’t stop _looking_ at each other and start actually _seeing_ what’s right in front of you —”

“What?” Dean demanded again, this time pitching forward a little. “What? What am I supposed to be seeing, huh?”

“Dean,” Sam sighed, briefly closing his eyes, “the way you care about… fuss over him. Exactly the same as he does over you - every minute you were passed out from the carnival, he was worrying about you. Every minute; drive back to the motel, he kept on asking me to check you were still breathing. Back at the motel, asking if he thought it was safe for you to even shower, and if maybe we should _help_ you with that. And when you were sleeping, we went out for breakfast, and he spent the whole time checking his phone, or… looking up the nearest place we could take you if you didn’t start improving, or… he just… fussed,”

“Yeah, well, that’s nice and all, caring if someone’s sick or not, but—”

“For fuck's sake, Dean,” Sam seethed, glaring at him, “this is… you’re honestly ridiculous, both of you, for keeping on with this… this…”

“What?”

Sam threw his hands up in despair, and shook his head. “I don’t even know what the hell it is you’re waiting for. You still got some hangups about him being a guy or something?”

“I’ve _never_ had hangups about that,” Dean denied, wincing even before he received Sam’s snort in answer, and awkwardly cleared his throat. “I haven’t. Not… all that much, anyway, and not… not at all now. Not for a _while_ now; a _long_ while. I just… I never figured —”

“What, you don’t deserve—”

“I never _said —_”

“You—”

“Alright,” Dean said, raising his voice, though sagging down in the chair further in defeat, “that’s not _all_ I thought, okay? I couldn’t… I couldn’t tell if I was… imagining it or not. Like… if he —”

“Are you even hearing yourself?” Sam blurted out, shaking his head and waving Dean’s words away. “All these years, when the two of you’ve—”

“I kissed him,”

It was funny, Dean thought to himself then, taking in the stunned, wide-eyed face staring back at him, how it was sometimes the simplest things that got Sam to just stop talking. Usually, he added, belatedly feeling the blush creeping up his neck and over his cheeks, it didn’t involve having to expose himself like he’d just done, but. It was sort of worth it for the few seconds of reprieve it bought him just then.

“Then what… what the fuck are you talking about leaving him here for?” Sam demanded, his face a comical twist of confusion and frustration. “What… what the hell are you even doing in here with _me_?”

“We… we might’ve had a… a discussion,” Dean tried again, swallowing with difficulty, and tapping his fingers against the back of the laptop.

“What? I—”

“One that ended with him kicking me out,” Dean added, avoiding his eyes, but sure he could feel the fury boiling off Sam.

“Okay,”

Cautiously, Dean looked over at Sam, nervous about what he might be about to see. It had taken Sam almost a full minute to utter out even that one word, and the look on his face gave him nothing to go on.

“Okay?” Dean repeated doubtfully.

“Okay,” Sam nodded, briefly gripping the edge of the table and flitting his eyes to Dean’s, then looking away again. “I’m done,”

“What—”

“I don’t wanna see you again ‘till tomorrow. Neither of you. We’re gonna… we’re gonna head on down to see this Alex in the morning. You, me, Cas if he wants to—and you’re gonna _ask_. But until then; I don’t wanna see you. I can’t even…” and Sam’s words trailed away from him yet again, as his hands slapped down hard against his thighs. “Go _fix_ this, Dean,”

“But—”

“Out,” Sam repeated, pointing at the door without even looking, “this is beyond stupid, and if you think I’m gonna sit here and listen to you whine when you’re not _doing_ anything about this mess, then I’m gonna pull up a playlist of all the music you hate and blast it out until you leave,”

“I—”

“And _then_ ,” Sam added, lifting his head from the laptop screen to stare him down, “I’m gonna follow you, and list every single fucking time I can remember you two pulling shit like this, ‘cos I could go on for… _days_ about all that crap. Like… you getting pissy at him for _no_ reason, and him acting up like a… like a petulant toddler when he can’t get his own way. Dean. It… _sucks_ being stuck in the middle of you two being like… _this_ all the time,”

“It’s not—”

“I’m not the one you need to be talking to here,” Sam said, slowly, with each word emphasized and backed up with a glare, before pointing at the door once again.

“Okay, I’ll—”

“Fix this,” Sam demanded, catching Dean’s eye as he relented with a nod, and began to stand, “I’m not getting in that car again with the two of you —either of you—if you don’t just… work this out,”

* * *

Dean curled his fingers around the edge of his bed and cursed at himself to get moving for what felt like the hundredth time. He’d had far too many hours to think to himself, and his head ached with the weight of possibilities both bad and good.

Sam’s anger for him had not been anything Dean wasn’t used to. There’d been countless times over the months since Cas had fallen, and even a few before then, when Sam’s frustration at the two of them had simmered over into either a prepared speech, or a blurting out of fury that they still weren’t any nearer to resolving the issue that was _them_. And the truth of it was, Dean huffed to himself, flexing his fingers into the bed cover, was that there was no good, understandable reason for them not to have at least _tried_ to work things out. Or at least had a conversation about it to see where they stood.

Initially, when Dean had first begun to realise that the way his stomach churned, or his mouth dried out, or just how often he had to adjust himself discreetly just for being around Cas, was something to do with _wanting_ instead of some involuntary action, he’d denied it. Denied all of it. Even the looks Cas gave him, the little nuances of his movements and behavior, that Dean would recognize anywhere else as reciprocating what he felt; those he pretended weren’t happening at all, or weren’t meant, or even that Cas had no idea what kind of signals he was giving off.

But then the denial got too difficult, too elaborate to maintain, leaving Dean snapping and pulling away from Cas in misplaced anger one minute, then desperately trying to not reach out for him the next. Dean spent half the time Cas was _gone_ somewhere telling himself he didn’t miss him even for a minute, and the other half pleading with him to come back, just to stop by, just for five minutes, just to let him know he was okay.

And when frustration hit, when he wasn’t quite desperate enough to seek out comfort in another body to distract himself from wanting Cas, just thinking about him left Dean aching anyway. Biting back his name when he’d got his hand wrapped around himself laid out in bed, or leaned back against the wall of the shower. Fantasising that it was Cas’ hand instead of his own, or that Cas was there with him, filling him, riding him; doing any of the many things he let his mind play out in full only once in a while. And when that happened, leaving Dean panting with release, looking down at the mess he’d spilled on his stomach, all he felt in the aftermath was disgust. Because even if he allowed himself to believe Cas _did_ feel something for him, no way did he have the right to be as cold with him as he was half the time, then jerk off thinking about him behind his back.

But Cas was human now, Dean sighed to himself, there was no need for all of this contemplation, complication, and self-denial. He didn’t have to worry that Cas might overhear the lustful thoughts he kept having about him intermingled with all those constantly on repeat for just how much he cared about him, worried when he was gone, and wanted him around. He _had_ Cas around now, Dean groaned, resisting the urge to slump back against the bed; there was no fear that he’d be running off out of reach anymore. And if Cas _was_ to leave, there was no way in hell he’d ever let him get very far.

Dean’s stomach knotted then, fear creeping through him that maybe Cas had _already_ left, had kicked him out earlier then packed his bag and disappeared somewhere, not even giving Dean the chance to fumble his way through a meant but half-assed apology. What if he was already gone?

Steeling himself, Dean pressed his palms flat against the bed and levered himself up, checking around for his jacket for a second then scowling at yet another attempt at killing time. With a determined grit of his teeth, he snatched the keys up from the dresser and crossed the room, swinging the door open wide.

A startled Cas, mid-reaching up to knock on the door, stood there before him, darting his eyes from Dean’s face to his own fist, and then back again.

“I was coming to see you,” Dean blurted out in a hurry, cursing himself yet again for waiting too long. Cas nodded, his eyes flitting over Dean’s shoulder into the room, then down to the doorstep between them. Dean stepped back and waved him in, closing the door behind him and swallowing hard at its resounding click.

Coming to a stop a few feet in front of, though with his back to him, Cas turned his head as though scanning the room. “Our rooms are identical,”

“I guess,” Dean answered, unable to do anything but watch him, willing Cas to turn around.

“I was rude this morning,” Cas said then, spinning, coming to a stop, and just staring at him, intensely enough to catch Dean’s breath.

“Think we both might’ve been a little that,” Dean replied, with a tiny shake of his head and an even smaller flick of a smile.

“I apologize, Dean,” Cas sighed, his face the picture of contrition, “I was… I-”

“You were upset,” Dean finished for him, offering up his own apologetic smile, “I’m so sorry, Cas, I never… I didn’t mean to do that,”

“Do what?” Cas answered quickly, his eyes blowing a little wider in alarm, and making Dean’s stomach knot.

“To upset you,” Dean said, shuffling a little closer, “that’s just about that last thing I’d ever wanna do to you,”

“And the other thing,” Cas said, his gaze dropping to the floor as he shifted in obvious discomfort, “the, uh—”

“Only thing I regret about kissing you, Cas, is that I didn’t do it sooner. Years ago. And that I… that I didn’t ask first,” Dean countered, blurting his words out as though Cas understanding them might be time-sensitive. He watched as Cas lifted his head to look back at him, and the hesitant smile had Dean cuffing the back of his neck in embarrassment, though fighting his instinct to look elsewhere.

“Dean—”

“And that thing you said?” Dean urged, taking an even smaller step closer. “About… about how maybe… about how maybe I didn’t… I didn’t _care_ about you like… like you said _you_ did —have; like you said you, uh, have for a while now. About me-”

“Dean,” Cas repeated, closing the gap between them until they bumped together, his fingers twitching down by his sides just in the corner of Dean’s eyeline, as though resisting the urge to reach out for him. But then he stopped resisting. Cas plastered himself against Dean, pressing his mouth against his with a desperate little whimper, his fingers finally wrapping around his sides and spreading as though luxuriating in the feel of him.

“Cas,” Dean said in a loud whisper, his fingers lifting and skidding across the stubble of his jaw as he pulled back a fraction, “it’s not true. It’s not one-sided, I promise you it’s not,”

“Dean—”

“I’ve wanted you since—”

But apparently Cas had heard enough. He pressed himself hard against Dean again, with enough force to have him stumbling backward, a gasp punching from him as his back hit the door, and Cas claimed his mouth, feeling like he was sucking the air from his lungs with the force of it.

Dean did his best to hold on, to keep up with the frenzied pace Cas was setting, darting his tongue along the seam of his lips one moment and then ducking to press hard, biting kisses into his neck the next; ones Dean was fairly sure might bruise a little. Dean dropped his head to claim Cas’ mouth again and clawed at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against his palm. Cas let out a soft moan as Dean’s free hand curled around his neck, and again as he swirled his thumb at the base of his skull.

Warmth swarmed in Dean’s chest as Cas snatched up the ends of his shirt, greedy hands skimming up over his stomach, sides, back, anything they could get to, tugging him away from the door, and moaning into his mouth. Dean took his turn at backing Cas up, and with his nod of agreement kept going until they were tumbling to the bed, parting for only the seconds it took to start shifting up it, before claiming each other all over again.

The moment Cas’ head was on the pillow, Dean was straddling him, leaning down and mouthing along his neck, nipping at his jaw, then licking his way back into his mouth. He let out a hard, tortured moan as Cas skimmed his hands down his back and wedged them into his jean pockets, then grinded up against him, punching out his own moan in answer.

In what definitely felt to Dean like making up for lost time, they moved together, with Cas rutting up between his legs and flaring an aching clench through Dean that had him whimpering into Cas’ neck with need. Their soundtrack was nothing but the frequent appreciative moans and whispers of encouragement they had for each other, that were only muted by the bruising kiss they couldn’t seem to pull away from for very long. And the sight of a tiny red-bruised crescent blooming at the sensitive flesh just beneath Cas’ ear had Dean lathing his tongue over it with a soft moan of claim, then sucking it in harder.

It took a while, but with unspoken agreement, that urgency between them lessened, leaving them exchanging smiles and softer kisses, as fingers slid repeatedly under shirts to trail circles and paths. Lifting himself up, Dean braced on his palms, smiling as Cas glanced shyly down between them.

“What?” Dean asked, ducking to nose Cas’ chin up so he could claim another kiss.

“I was afraid this might happen… several days ago. In that first motel,” Cas admitted, though his eyes darted to Dean’s mouth again as he tilted his head up once more. “I was afraid this might happen without… without your permission,”

“Mmhmm,” Dean agreed, kissing then nuzzling against him, “same. Thought I might… I mean I was all kinds of sure I was gonna wake up to you kicking me out of bed for… groping you in the night or something,"

“I would not have kicked you,” Cas said, hesitating only briefly, then reaching out to slide his open hands along the fronts of Dean’s thighs, “nor would I have objected,”

“Good to know,” Dean muttered into his temple, then shifted to kiss him yet again, before pitching to the side with a huff and dragging Cas with him until they were facing.

“This has gone much better than I had been expecting it would,” Cas announced, wriggling to get more comfortable.

“How so?” Dean smiled, reaching out to snag their fingers together.

“Well,” Cas started, his eyes darting to Dean’s mouth for a split-second giving the only indication he intended leaning in for another kiss. Dean grabbed the back of his head and pulled until Cas was half-laid over him, and their joined hands were trapped beneath his thigh against the bed. “I thought perhaps you would be… too angry with me,”

“Likewise; but I—I kinda earned it. ‘sides, I can never stay angry at you, Cas,” Dean smiled against his lips, “thought you’dve figured that out by now,”

Cas smiled against him then, and rolled back, squeezing Dean’s fingers and shaking their wrists against the slight numbness tingling there.

“I have… no idea, what I am supposed to be doing here,” Cas confessed, a small frown furrowing his brow as he dropped his gaze in doubt. Dean leaned to kiss it away, laughing softly against his cheek.

“Think I’ve got a clue here either?” he countered, lingering to brush his lips against Cas’ before shifting back. “‘Sides. Weren’t you the one who said something about making stuff up as we go?”

“I was not referring explicitly to _this_ at the time,” Cas answered, his smile widening, “although…”

“Although what?” Dean prompted, catching the wistful look on his face. Cas raised his eyes again and let out a rueful sigh.

“I would… were we better at this... _talking_ , that is… I would have liked this to have happened long ago. Earlier than _now_ , anyway,”

“All the way back then?” Dean asked in slight disbelief, wrapping his hand around Cas’ hip.

“Well,” Cas answered, seeming to consider his words before rolling forward for another quick kiss, “perhaps as early as then, I did not… I did not understand what it was I was feeling. _That_ I was feeling,”

Dean’s stomach gave a nervous ripple that ended in turning up the corners of his mouth in a shy smile. “Yeah, well. Me too, Cas. I mean,” and he rolled to claim another kiss of his own, “I… I kind of… I tried to pretend I wasn’t… I wasn’t feeling, uh…”

“I understand,” Cas said, and the look on his face told Dean he really did, that he didn’t need to say anything out loud if he didn’t want to. So Dean chose not to, instead sliding his hand up Cas’ side for a second, then through the back of his hair, pulling him closer and rolling half onto his back.

Dean tried to talk himself in to backing up, at least offering for them to have a conversation about what was happening between them, and yelling at himself internally—half-heartedly, of course—to stop what they were doing, to do things _right_. But Cas was warm and insistent against him, smiling for him as though he’d won a prize every time they pulled back from one another, then dove straight back in. So Dean lost himself in it, every press of Cas’ fingers against his skin, every flick of his tongue darting into his mouth.

“So. We are leaving in the morning to speak to this… Alex Wagner?” Cas asked later, when he’d pulled back longer than the few seconds they seemed to manage to stay apart. Dean took a few seconds to work out what Cas was meaning, then another couple to allow things outside of _them_ to crash down on him again.

“Think maybe you should sit this one out,” Dean said, his stomach sinking and already bracing for an argument. More fool him for thinking he got to have anything go easy, he huffed to himself. Though he had been thinking about it; ever since Cas had mentioned wanting to do _more_ than just hunting, Dean had been looking for small ways to help Cas do that.

“...Why?”

Cas’ tone told him nothing of his mood, so Dean leaned forward to kiss him, and carried on. “‘Cos. Kinda pointless all three of us going to interview this one guy. ‘Specially since we’ve gotta drive hours to get there,”

“The ache that I have been feeling is—”

“Not that bad,” Dean smiled, nodding, and kissing him again, “I know. I just… why don’t you just… stick around here? Look around the town? Have a day to just… I don’t know. Human, and stuff. Find something you wanna do for yourself?”

“Are you saying you do not wish me to accompany you for this interview?” Cas asked, his voice small, and guarded.

“That’s the last thing I’m saying,” Dean denied with a firm shake of his head, then cupped the back of Cas’ and kissed him deeply enough to steal his breath.

“Then—”

“I’m just thinking,” Dean said when he pulled back, nuzzling against him, “it’s pointless dragging you all that way for nothing, and if it turns out we find something, then, we’ll just swing back around and pick you up,”

“Even if this interview leads you to a location that is far from here?” Cas asked, arching an eyebrow that showed his obvious concern.

“Even then,” Dean promised, squeezing his fingers, “I don’t care how long I’ve gotta drive to come get you from anywhere, Cas. ‘Sides. Gives you a day off, which can’t be a bad thing, and gives Sam chance to just… give me hell,”

“You don’t want—”

“If I can avoid him teasing your ass as well as mine, then I’m taking it,” Dean reasoned, kissing away the doubt on Cas’ face until he saw him smile.

“I do not mind _being teased_. Not for this,” Cas said, glimpsing down to the tangle of their fingers together and smiling for seeing it.

“Yeah, well. _I_ mind it,” Dean huffed, “and I guess… I know Sam’s gonna have all this… heart-rending stuff prepared, about how... happy he is for us, and all o’ that stuff. So I’m gonna let him work it all out on me, so by the time we get back to you, he’s like… calmed down a bit, or something,”

“Calmed down?” Cas repeated with a worried frown.

“Not about this,” Dean smiled, giving a quick wave of his hand between them. “Well, not _exactly_ about this. Not- not in any bad kinda way-”

“Dean—”

“He’s pretty pissed off at me for… for _us_ , uh… dragging our heels on this,” Dean admitted, wincing with embarrassment. Cas opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out, and instead turned into a nod of acknowledgment, and a hint of blush.

“He has no… objection,” Cas checked, cautious and precise with his words.

“Only that it’s taken so long,” Dean laughed, shaking his head, “and only when he’s the one who’s gotta deal with the fallout of us, uh… not _talking_ ,”

“I see,”

“Good,” Dean enthused, backing it up with a kiss, “‘cos don’t think you’re getting off completely from him winding you up as well. I’m just… hoping I get the brunt of it tomorrow so you don’t… so it’s not as bad,”

“Chivalrous,” Cas retorted, with a teasing smirk of his own.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, rolling forward and nudging until Cas was on his back, “I’m good like that. Hey, Cas,”

“Yes?” Cas asked, sighing the second Dean’s lips hit his neck, his hands already gripping lightly around his waist to keep him where he wanted him as Dean settled between his legs.

“Stay with me tonight? I couldn’t… I know it’s kinda lame, but… I couldn’t sleep without you last night. I mean… I couldn’t sleep thinking you were mad at me,”

“I _was_ mad at you,” Cas beamed up at him, and pressed his fingers a little firmer, then tilted his head up to be kissed. “But I hear that _making up_ is part of the, uh... _fun_ , of being _mad_ ,”

“Oh, well in that case,” Dean grinned, stretching languidly over him and catching the tiny gasp escaping Cas’ mouth before bending to claim it, “guess we’d better get right on that…”

* * *

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

The house looked homely, Dean decided as he idled the engine for a moment and peered up at it through the windscreen. It was a small, well-maintained two-floor building, with a small porch to the side of it, and a good-sized plot of garden that Dean thought might have been mostly vegetables and herbs extending towards the back. To the front of the house was a variety of flowers planted haphazardly, as though the owner had been experimenting more than knowing what they were doing, and Dean had to smile, letting his imagination wander to what Cas might have thought of it if he’d have come.

The drive over might have only been around four hours, but to Dean it had felt like at least double. He’d endured Sam’s barrage of comments, innuendos and eventual congratulations the entire way, squaring his shoulders against it and taking it with barely a single retort. It was worth it, every bit of it, Dean smiled to himself, giving a final squeeze around the steering wheel before sliding his hands down into his lap with a soft, tired sigh.

Sharing a bed with Cas and not having to keep his hands to himself had felt like a revelation. They had mapped each other out, sought the ways they slotted together, and began the discovery of what each of them liked, with an evening-long, mostly-clothed exploration that left them breathless and teetering on the edge of too much too soon. Dean had been shy about saying it, but had told Cas anyway, that the thought of anything more than that happening between them and then spending the day apart felt _wrong_. And since they’d taken such a convoluted route to get where they were, he didn’t want to jeopardize anything by _rushing_ things between them. Cas had agreed, and sleepy kisses had eventually given way to falling asleep curled around each other in the early hours of the morning.

Waking up with Cas, though, Dean smiled again, that really had been a revelation. To feel him stirring awake, then to flip over so he could watch as Cas blinked open his eyes with a sleepy smile for him, only for Cas to pull him closer and burrow down under the covers with a contented huff; that was something waking up for. As were the slow, lingering kisses that saw Dean pressed over on to his back, the stirring of Cas’ hips between his legs that sent shoots of arousal sparking out through him that he couldn’t get enough of, and a filthy kiss that had left him feeling dizzy, even if it had been interrupted by Sam’s loud thumping against Cas’ motel room door telling Dean to get a move on so they could hit the road.

The muttered, reproachful complaints when they had to stop made Dean smile wider still, even hours later, and he had to rein it in for the knowing clearing of a throat coming from his right. He raised his head to see Sam’s wicked smile for him, ignored it in favor of checking his phone and firing an answer back to Cas’ message, then looked out at the house again.

With a nod to Sam, they climbed out of the car, taking a moment to grimace up at the thickening grey cloud overhead, and noticing a barking sound coming from inside the house. The barking grew in frenzy the closer they got, and before Dean could even raise his knuckles to knock on the door it was pulled open, with several minutes then lost to an excitable young Lab, running between Dean and Sam in turn for affection, with its tail wagging nonstop.

“Best doorbell ever,” the man answering the door said with affection, and Dean looked up from scratching the dog’s ears to find a curious, open face smiling back at him, nodding in greeting. “So what can I do for you?”

“I’m Steven,” Dean said, holding out his hand to shake and nodding towards Sam, “and this is my brother Gus,”

“Nice to meet you both,” he answered, still looking back at them expectantly, “I’m Alex—”

“Wagner, yeah, we know,” Dean smiled, watching as his eyebrows raised a little in surprise.

“Don’t suppose you’re here after my electrical services, huh?” Alex smiled, stepping back and ushering them in, stooping to pick up the squirming dog that panted and wagged its tail excitedly in his arms before squirming to be let down once the door was closed.

“Uh—”

“That answers that then,” Alex smiled, pointing them towards the back of the house and leading them into a kitchen, “I’m the electrician round here, so, if it’s not that you’re wanting…”

“Actually, uh, no,” Sam answered, smiling in thanks as Alex picked up a coffee pot and shook it in question.

“So? If it’s a mechanic you’re after, you’d want Geoff; he’s about another five miles in that direction,” Alex said, pointing out of the window and back to the road.

“Actually, we, uh, wanted to ask you about a, uh, carnival,” Dean said, gauging his reaction, watching as he continued rinsing the coffee pot out and refilled the machine, grimacing at the coffee grinds stuck to his fingers, then staring at the machine until the light came on.

“Well that makes sense how you’d know my name then,” Alex replied with a smile, turning to lean back against the counter and folding his arms, “world knows that used to be my life. Carnival’s not due here for another week or so, which is probably a good thing. Weather’s awful right now; you must’ve picked the only dry spell all day to come out here in. You looking for work or something?”

“Uh…”

“‘Cos, take it from an old hand? Most of these small town carnivals that come through here these days ain’t worth even thinking about no more. Head on out to one of the static ones if that’s your thing. Take it from someone who knows,”

“You’ve worked on a lot of carnivals, huh?” Sam asked, pulling out the stall Alex gestured to and sitting, with Dean following.

“‘Straight outta school, then most of my life,” Alex agreed, a wistful look taking over his face.

“How come you stopped?”

“‘Cos like I said; they ain’t what they used to be. And I couldn’t bring myself to be part of something like that no more,” Alex answered, his voice becoming gruff, “I couldn’t… I mean, I saw some corner-cutting in my time. Hell, I even cut a few myself; but never when it came to public safety. That’s not… that’s not what I’m about. Not what _carnivals_ are about,”

“Guess you’ve seen some things, huh?” Dean said, with what he hoped was an understanding smile.

“Oh, I’ve seen some things,” Alex agreed, with a heavy sigh, “I mean, I can’t speak for the bigger carnivals, the regulated ones and the like, but. These small guys? They just… nothing touches them, you know? All about making a quick buck and moving on,”

“Was it always like that?” Sam asked, distracted as the dog bounced across the kitchen and dropped a small rope into his lap, wagging its tail and resting its chin on his knee, looking up at him expectantly.

“It was, and it wasn’t,” Alex sighed again, frowning to himself, “I mean, it’s always been a—a trade where people’ve… anyone who wants to work outside the system, they’re not all bad, you know? But some of ‘em… some of ‘em don’t give a rats ass about doing anything but saving their own skins, looking out for ‘emselves. Now, I’ve been just about coast to coast and back again, working on one carnival or another, so I know not to judge folk quick as that, but sometimes? Sometimes these people shouldn’t be allowed to even exist. I mean that,”

“So… what made you quit?” Dean asked, accepting his coffee with a mumble of thanks and taking a small sip, before resting it on the table to cool. “Any final—”

“I’ll tell you why I quit,” Alex said, bitterness filling his tone as he came to sit across from them, “‘bout six years ago now, I was working a kind of route across the south over the summer; South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama. Thought I’d stop off and see an old pal of mine in Mississippi for a few weeks, then found a gig in Arkansas that was gonna head on over to Oklahoma after that. Figured it was perfect for what I wanted,”

“Only it wasn’t?” Sam guessed, blowing on his coffee and throwing the rope for the dog, smiling as it skittered across the kitchen tiles and ran into the living room.

“‘Bout as far from perfect as you can get,” Alex agreed with an angry huff. “I got there, and it was all… I mean, I’ve seen some disrepair in my time, like you might expect. But this place? Accident waiting to happen; everywhere you looked,”

“So what happened?” Dean prompted, smiling at Sam’s laughter as the dog returned and knocked into him excitedly.

“I made it a _day_ ,” Alex said, his words twisting up in disgust. “When I worked carnivals, I liked to take a day or two beforehand, to get the layout before I started, look how they ran the cabling, and stuff,”

Dean’s stomach gave a jolt for the possibility that this might be exactly the kind of information they were looking for, and hadn’t even had to ask for it.

“So you did the electrics,” Sam prompted, the tension in his shoulders telling Dean he was thinking the same.

“I did the electrics,” Alex agreed, “only this place? They had sockets with blown fuses, cables wrapped over with nothing but duct tape, and bare wires exposed. There were loose wires just about everywhere; things were shorting out, lights flickering, everywhere you looked. I asked around, not a soul was interested. Figured I’d try and to fix a circuit board for some lighting, see how bad things were, and got this burn for my trouble,”

Dean looked at the scar running up the side of Alex’s hand and grimaced, imagining the pain that must have caused it.

“Anyway,” Alex said, sipping at his coffee, “I quit there and then. I’d been thinking about it for a bit; been doing it since I quit school, after all, and just… worked from place to place. Good life for a while; a _long_ while, but I’d got kinda tired of it by that point,”

“And then what happened?” Dean asked, picking up from where Sam had left off.

“Then?” Alex laughed, cold and bitter. “I went to a motel for a couple nights, tried figuring what I wanted to do next—which turned out to be getting formal qualifications to get myself self-employed, and how I ended up here—and while I was there, I heard some kid got electrocuted on the Cyclone ride. I couldn’t… I didn’t know whether to feel guilty that I’d not stayed to help, or… I didn’t know what to think,”

“Not your fault,” Dean instantly assured him with a tight smile. Alex let out a gruff, non-committal grumble and took another sip of his coffee, staring down at the table lost in thought.

“So what happened to the carnival?” Sam asked, and from the clench of his jaw, Dean could already see him connecting all the dots.

“Nothing,” Alex snorted in disgust, “I mean. I assume nothing, ‘cos I didn’t try and keep tabs on it after I left or anything. But the kid was one of the carnival’s own, not a local, so. They kept it quiet as they could. Told everyone the electrics had failed, when that poor kid was just…”

Dean tried to smile in consolation as Alex’s words trailed away from him, though didn’t feel much but disgust.

“I only found out ‘cos I had a friend working there—the guy that told me there was a job opening in the first place,”

“That’s, uh…” Dean began saying, feeling bile rising in his throat

“Disgraceful,” Alex finished for him, “you can be sure as hell they’d have driven out of town, maybe paid the parents off with a little cash, then changed names between one show and the next to hide their tracks. Guess they just carried on to wherever they were planning on going in Oklahoma. These places; they thrive on crew that work hand to mouth, won’t cause any ruckus, ask no questions or give ‘em any much bother, so. Bit of cash to shut a few people up, bit more for a paint job over the signs to change all the names; job done,”

“You don’t happen to know the name of the carnival when you were there, do you?” Sam asked, leaning forward a little.

“Not like I’d forget it,” Alex said with a bitter smile, “Erdbeere. Erdbeere _Entertainment_ , if you could call it that,”

Alex stood abruptly then, walking over to a kitchen counter and coming back with a flat rectangular tin that rang out when he dumped it down on to the kitchen table. Prising off the lid, he shoved the tin towards Dean, who peered in, then helped himself to a couple of cookies before sliding them over to Sam, and for a good hour they talked; about carnivals, living out of motels, and what it was like being a small town electrician.

“So how come you invited us in, no questions asked,” Dean asked as they were about to leave, thanking him for his time.

“‘Cos,” Alex shrugged easily, a smile for his dog as it resumed running excitedly around Sam’s legs, “I recognize folk who’ve lived on the road a long time. Ain’t no harm to you. Nice to talk to similar-minded people from time to time, if I’m honest; guys here, they’ve got no idea what it is to just keep moving. Lived their whole life barely leaving their back porches,”

Alex watched from his porch as Dean and Sam climbed back into the Impala, standing and waving them off as they turned out the drive.

“So. Next?” Sam asked absently as he checked his messages. Dean had already done the same, smiling ridiculously at the picture from Cas announcing he was at a petting zoo of all things.

“Guess we… dig up this _Erdbeere_ place, see if we can find anything on it, where it might’ve gone. I’m presuming it’s the same one we’re looking for; we could be way off with that though, so —”

“It’s something to go on,” Sam agreed, “I mean, if this carnival had a death in its history, as well as everything else, it’s another good reason for them to have just… quit it like they did,”

“‘K,” Dean nodded, peering doubtfully out through the windscreen skywards, “whaddya say we grab something real quick to eat on the road, and head back?”

* * *

“Okay, so,” Sam began, in that tone reserved for when he was excited by having a good lead to work with, “where are we starting?”

Dean braced himself, and nodded to encourage him, telling himself he should be more interested than he really was. Though took a quick, sweeping glance around the motel room they’d come to, then to the window where the rain continued to hammer insistently at the glass, and sagged a little. This was _not_ where he wanted to be, he thought dejectedly, calculating how close to being back with Cas they would have been if the heavens hadn’t opened, leaving the roads so dangerous to drive on that they’d had no choice but to stop.

Heaven, Dean sneered to himself, trust _it_ to be the thing preventing him getting back to Cas.

“Let’s start with the dates,” he suggested as he rolled his shoulders and tried to focus, reciting the time frame given by Alex for when the boy had been electrocuted. He watched Sam’s fingers fly over the laptop, and opened up his tablet, beginning searches of his own.

“So, if we give maybe a week? Two weeks after that carnival,” Sam said, a couple of minutes later, “Alex was right: _Erdbeere Entertainment_ ; never showed up in Oklahoma after the accident,”

“So how many carnivals are we looking at?” Dean said, scanning down his screen. “I’m thinking that… maybe we need to work out which ones are legit, regulated ones, and which are like _these_ ,”

“Sounds good,” Sam agreed, spinning his laptop round for Dean to look at his list, and after some work between the two of them narrowing their search down to five.

“I don’t see it being these guys either,” Dean said, pointing at the screen for a second time, “what I’m reading here is that Oklahoma was one of their first ever carnivals. Alex said this Erdbeere place was falling apart; new place means newer equipment and stuff, right? Or at least… wanting to make a good first impression,”

“And these were only a couple of years old, so it’s probably not them either,” Sam added, then banged his fist on the table, “got it,”

“What?”

“Has to be this one. Look,” Sam said, pointing, “news story here complains about a carnival with several rides out of action, and several people complaining of mild electrical shock,”

“Okay,” Dean agreed, making a note, “so where next?”

Between them, over the next hour they traced the trail of the former Erdbeere Entertainment across the country, finding repeated stories of its general state of disrepair, and patched up rides and stalls getting steadily worse. The name changed twice again, and as they’d already been expecting, the last trace they found of the carnival was it heading to the town with the missing girls where they’d started out.

“Okay,” Sam nodded, pursing his lips together, “so we know it’s this one. We know what happened. Guess we can work out why this ghost had such a, uh, connection with the electricity,”

“So now we need to figure out who this kid is,” Dean sighed, knowing they needed to, but always hating that part of any investigating they did. Ghost stories, he thought to himself, were not only the things people told each other to spook themselves out for fun; the _real_ ghost stories were usually layered in tragedy, missed chances, and ultimately, inconsolable hurt, or regret.

“Actually, I think I found something,” Sam said, typing again, then turning the screen back to Dean. “So. This accident happened in Arkansas, right?”

“Right,”

“Well, I did a search for any kids turning up dead near where the carnival was when it happened. Nothing fit. But two towns over a day later, a guy and a 14 year old boy were admitted to a hospital. Guy was covered in electrical burns all up his arms, and the kid later died of injuries presumed to be caused by electrocution,”

“They didn’t take him straight to a hospital the second it happened?” Dean grimaced, despite already knowing that. “That’s all kinds of sick,”

“It is,” Sam agreed with a scowl of his own, “and it seems like when the kid was pronounced dead, the guy took off. Disappeared from the hospital without a word; apparently, no one even saw him leave. Didn’t give a real name in the hospital either, so they couldn’t trace him,”

“Bastard,” Dean seethed under his breath, clenching his hands into fists.

“Yeah. But, luckily for us, I guess, at some point early on this kid had been to both a dentist and a doctor’s, so there were at least records for him;  we’ve got a name,” and as Sam spun the laptop around for him to look, Dean felt his heart sink, closing his eyes at the picture on the screen, catching the name _Thomas Wood_.

“They ever find his parents?”

“Nope. Mom, Beth died in a car accident when Thomas was six; dad, Joshua just… disappeared not long after,”

“And there’s… no records since then? Since he was a kid, I mean?” Dean asked with a frown, peering at the screen and seeing medical history dating from Thomas’ birth up to being six.

“No. Well, there are,” Sam amended, scrolling through, “but these are like… sporadic. Popping up randomly across the country every so often,”

“Like he was travelling with a carnival and just… stopping off when he really had to,” Dean realized with a groan, slumping a little against the table.

“Yeah. Guess his dad must’ve worked on these carnivals and... taken Thomas with him,”

Dean pulled the laptop closer and handed Sam the tablet, checking the dates for the random doctor’s visits and finding occasional records of him being enrolled in school. When he’d seen enough, he pushed the laptop back and threw his head back with a sigh. “This must be exactly what our records look like for when we were kids,”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam agreed, in a small voice. Dean avoided the look he was giving him, not wanting to see it.

“Look at this,” Dean blurted out suddenly, stabbing at the screen and turning to nudge against Sam.

“What?”

“Date of birth,” Dean said, a tight twist to his voice as his heart gave a thud, watching Sam read for himself and the realization hit him as well.

“That’s… the date of the carnival fire,” Sam said, slumping back in his seat with a huff of disbelief.

“Yeah, it is,”

“So he’s kinda… he’s kinda recreating his own death there—and his birthday—with the power and all,”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess he is,” Dean said, pressing his hand over his mouth for a second then dragging it away. “So… what’s he sticking around for? I mean; if he even knows why—”

“Presuming this guy that took Thomas to the hospital was— _is_ , dad Joshua… could it be him that he wants? Like… to talk to? Just to see? ‘Cos he feels… I don’t know,” Sam raised his arms helplessly, “abandoned or something?”

“Not the craziest thing we’ve ever heard,” Dean answered, watching Sam nod slowly. “So. Question is, where’s Joshua now?”

Sam shrugged, typing at a few keys but not really looking. “I mean… if he spent… if he and Thomas went ‘missing’ when he was around… six, and died when he was fourteen, that’s eight years they’d have been moving around without really _existing_ anywhere, so. Chances are, he’s still under the radar,”

“You find anything about what he used to do before his wife died? Any photos, records or anything?” Dean asked, watching as Sam searched, and nodding when he turned the screen back.

“Mechanic. Guess he could use that to find work on the carnivals, right?”

“Yeah. Here, pass it over,” Dean said then, pulling the laptop towards him once again. On a whim, he began another search, looking for mechanics with matching names, checking back to work out an age for Joshua, then narrowing the search to a handful, and spinning the laptop back to Sam.

“What?”

“I figure, if his kid died, maybe he just… couldn’t face going back to the kind ‘o life that caused it. I mean, I _hope_ he’d be like that. I know I couldn’t,” Dean added, a flare of rage igniting in his gut and quietly simmering there, in the way that told Dean he wouldn’t be over it any time soon.

“Yeah, I guess,”

“So, what if this was the… I don’t know. Push that he needed to… move on. Find another way of living, or something,” Dean suggested, his eyes darting between the screen and Sam in hope.

“You think one of these guys could be him?” Sam asked, sounding a little doubtful.

“Why not?” Dean shrugged, pointing at one of them. “Look at this guy,” and started typing. Sam watched as he pulled up records, nodding with more enthusiasm as Dean found details of a mechanic starting work in a small town.

“Time scale would fit,” Sam said, agreeing, “and it… location-wise, kinda makes sense for maybe the direction he’d have gone in after Thomas, uh… died. Let’s just… check the others over, see if any of them do as well,”

“I need some time with Cas,” Dean blurted out then, having been working up the courage to let those words out for close to an hour. “I mean; I don’t mean we give up on this, or that we just _stop_ , but—”

“Okay,” Sam nodded easily, “what are you thinking?”

“I just think… I think we need to… I think we’ve maybe gotta, I don’t know. Talk some more, or just… I don’t know,” Dean said, flustered, thinking there were all kinds of things he felt he really, really needed to be doing with Cas, but none of which he really wanted to be thinking about in front of his brother.

“Good,” Sam enthused, smiling and blatantly happy for him. Dean nodded, relieved to be reprieved from his teasing, even if it was only temporary.

“I was so close to telling you to come up here on your own today. We’ve just… _literally_ got things, uh… started between us, and I’m off _here_ ,” Dean added, sighing to himself and unable to keep the wistful tone from his voice. “It just feels wrong, you know?”

“So how ‘bout this,” Sam said, tapping his fist against the table, “hopefully this rain’ll clear by the morning. We head back to Cas. You two do… _whatever_ you’re gonna do —”

“Sam—” Dean began protesting, wincing at the grin on his face.

“—and I’ll be, uh… _not_ there for that,” Sam added, that grin becoming more wicked. “And I don’t know. Maybe… how ‘bout you take the day, and then the _three_ of us go see this Joshua, see if we can… convince him of what we think’s happening and… take it from there?”

“‘S a good start,” Dean agreed, torn between wanting more than a day with Cas, and getting the case done, so he could suggest them going off somewhere together and _really_ being alone.

“Okay,” Sam agreed, smiling, “then let’s… be sure about where we’re heading with this, before we do anything else”

And for the remainder of the afternoon they checked and double-checked all the information they had against everything they could find, convinced that the Joshua Wood they were looking at was the person they needed to speak to next.

“Okay,” Sam said, closing the laptop lid with a sigh of finality, “so. We go back for Cas, _take a day —"_

Dean glared at Sam’s teasing tone then rolled his eyes, waving for him to continue.

“—then head up to this guy,” Sam finished, tapping a finger against the notepad he’d been scribbling on. “Gonna be nine hours driving… think Cas’ll be okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Dean countered in immediate defense, earning himself another grin of triumph.

“Think I haven’t noticed the way you look at him every time we get into the car for more than five minutes? Or even talk about doing it?” Sam asked with a small laugh, “what is it, he get motion sickness now or something?”

“His business,” Dean countered, attempting to stop his voice from coming out gruff.

“He’s okay though, right?” Sam asked, his voice softer, and genuinely concerned; why wouldn’t he be, Dean scolded himself, Sam loved Cas. Not like _he_ did, obviously; and if _that_ little realization didn’t have him shudder in both excitement and fear…

“Yeah, he’s good,” Dean replied with a pinched smile, and stood to throw some balled up paper from their earlier notes into the trashcan. “I’m gonna go grab us some food—”

“Stay,” Sam shook his head, waving his arm towards their beds, “I’ll go. I could do with some air. ‘Sides… you look _tired_ Dean; not get much sleep last night or something?”

Dean scowled but said nothing, thinking the blush he could feel creeping up his neck answered well enough for him. Sam gave a cackle of laughter and grabbed up his jacket, then left without another word.

Dean sagged the second he heard the door click closed, walking over and slumping back on his own bed with a soft huff, staring up at the ceiling in thought. This, the two of them sharing a motel room, had been borne out of necessity, but over the years had become a habit, and he’d not even thought about it when they’d slipped their way across the wet floor of the lobby when they’d sought out shelter from the rain. And he wanted to speak to Cas, needed to, Dean sighed to himself, so either he head out later into the rain that looked on for the night to make a call, or he took the break Sam was probably intentionally offering.

Cas answered on the second ring, and Dean closed his eyes in relief at his _hello_.

“Hey, Cas, How’s it going?”

“Good,” Cas answered, an obvious smile in his voice.

“Had a good day there?”

“Yes. This town is… interesting,”

“Interesting how?” Dean asked, settling back more comfortably on the bed, and closing his eyes, listening to Cas speak. Dean smiled to hear about what seemed to have been a great day, where Cas had seen as much of the town as he could cram in. Cas’ _incident with a llama_ had Dean howling in hysterics, wiping tears from his eyes and having to sit up, wriggling his way back to sit more comfortably against the headboard.

“And your day, Dean? Did your interview lead to anything that might be of help?”

“It did,” Dean answered, nodding to himself, and pinching between his eyes, trying not to allow his anger at the whole situation to seep into his words as he explained what they had found.

“It sounds… horrific,” Cas settled for saying after a long pause, and Dean found himself nodding again.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “I mean, guess we don’t know everything, but. Right now, all I can think about this whole thing is knocking the guy out. How’d a guy just abandon his kid like that, huh?”

“I don’t know. But… if what you believe is correct,” Cas said, pausing cautiously, “then I imagine you have some… empathy. For how this boy was… _raised_ ,”

Dean closed his eyes again, not really needing the reminder of the parallel that had already been stuck in his mind since earlier that afternoon. “Yeah, well,”

“Is it still raining there?” Cas asked then, and Dean slumped, feeling like he’d already failed on the first hurdle of _them_. Cas’ obvious change of subject was clearly in answer to _his_ own dismissive one; he wanted to kick himself for it.

“Uh, yeah. Don’t think it’s stopped,” Dean said, “hey, Cas. Think... maybe not now; not when we’re still dealing with this case, but… maybe later. Maybe, if you want, that is; I don’t know if you even do, but. I’ll tell you. Uh… anything you wanna know... ‘bout me and Sam when we were growing up. Dad. All of it, if you want,”

Silence greeted Dean then and he bit down on his lip, wishing more than anything that he had Cas there with him so he could gauge his reaction.

“I would like that,” Cas said softly, after another moment, and Dean felt himself leaning into the phone.

“But before all that,” he said, wincing a little less this time for changing the subject, “thinking that, tomorrow. Me and Sam are gonna head back to you, and you and me can… I guess… hang out. Like… we’re gonna take a day—least most of one, ‘fore we head off for this _Wood_ guy,”

“I would like that a lot,” Cas came straight back with, and Dean couldn’t help but echo the smile he was hearing.

“Yeah, me too, Cas,” he agreed, sighing a little, “I’m… sorry we couldn’t make it back tonight,”

“Your safety is more important,” Cas countered.

“Yeah, I know, I just… I wanna see you,” Dean said, not able to keep the longing from his voice, not even wanting to. Cas’ pleased, proud response had Dean sagging back against the headboard and kind of melting there.

“Last night was… it was… I really liked… _enjoyed_ being with you last night, Cas,” Dean stammered out, relieved for a second that he’d not had to say that to Cas’ face, then kicking himself for the thought.

“As did I,” Cas assured him, “I have imagined multiple scenarios between us, numerous times. None have even come close to having the opportunity to reach out for you freely and not have to… fear that you would push me away,”

Cas’ honesty left Dean a little desperate to _fix_ things. “Cas,” he said, his voice cracking a little, “I’m not gonna… after everything, I’m… you know I’m _yours_ , right? Like… I know this is new— _brand_ new between us, but at the same time it just… It’s just like it’s… it _feels_ way overdue, you know?”

“I do. And it does,” Cas agreed, and Dean thought he heard him moving around, imagined him settling back against his own bed. “I look forward to much, much more between us,”

“Me too, Cas,” Dean sighed back at him, closing his eyes again, “me too,” and for a few more seconds he smiled into the phone saying nothing at all, imagining Cas doing the same.

“So. Tell me about these _scenarios_ ,” Dean asked then, teasing a little, as well as feeling curious.

“What would you like to know?”

“Like… what do you mean by, _scenarios_?”

“Dean,” Cas smiled, “are you trying to tell me that you have _not_ had thoughts involving the two of us… together?”

“Hell yeah,” Dean laughed back, “‘bout a hundred ways over,”

“Then perhaps you should be telling _me_ ,” Cas countered, “I assume you are more... imaginative, given your experiences,”

“Hey,” Dean answered, pointlessly shielding his eyes, “I don’t wanna even think about any ‘o my _experiences_ that don’t involve _you_ , okay? All ‘o that—all ‘o that’s past history, okay?”

“As pleased as I am to hear that,” Cas countered, the smile in his voice curving it into teasing, “the fact remains that whilst I am knowledgeable about… all of the possibilities of… copulation—”

“Never say that word to me again—”

“My knowledge is more theoretical. Yours is practical,” Cas finished, his voice now full of mirth. “We should take advantage of that,”

“Right,” Dean laughed back, pinching between his eyes once more and groaning to himself, “but that don’t mean there’s not a bunch of stuff I don’t wanna try with you that I _haven’t_ done before. And anyway, it’ll all be different, ‘cos it’s _you_ ,” and Dean blushed to himself hard, then, and tried to tell himself not to.

“I agree,”

“So… tell me,” Dean asked again, taking a quick glance at the door wondering how long before Sam would be back, and wishing even harder that he was back with Cas.

“I can only tell you what I want,”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“You,” Cas answered, his voice loaded with it, “I want you. All of you,”

“...me too, Cas,” Dean answered, swallowing hard, staring down at his fly with a wince and willing himself not to react.

“Since becoming human, that… _need_ has become… _louder_. In the bunker, some nights it was impossible to sleep for thinking about just how badly I wanted you,”

“And,” Dean answered, swallowing hard again, his heart beginning to hammer and his jeans very definitely tightening, “what, uh… what’d you do about that?”

“What do you think I did about that?” Cas countered, an edge to his voice that had Dean fighting back letting out a small whimper. His mind flooded with images of Cas touching himself; in the bunker showers, in his room just a couple down from his own, anywhere at all. And Dean had to press the heel of his hand into himself, snatching the pillow from behind his back to cover himself with in case Sam came back any moment.

“Fuck. Same, Cas,” he blasted back at him, “same. Gotta tell you, felt guilty as hell for it half the time, ‘cos I wasn’t… I wasn’t even sure that was what you wanted from me,”

“Believe me,” Cas replied, precise and with no way of mistaking his meaning, “that— _you_ , are exactly what I want, and _have_ wanted,” and that whimper Dean had been holding on to fought its way free, leaving Cas laughing softly into the phone.

“And here’s me been worrying all day that maybe I pushed you a little bit yesterday,” Dean huffed back, smiling and staring up at the ceiling, willing himself to calm.

“And yet you only left me wanting _more_ , Dean,” Cas replied, and Dean was sure he’d dropped his voice deliberately for his benefit.

“I—”

“Yet we _are_ more,” Cas added, making Dean sit up a little straighter.

“Oh?”

“I mean, that there is more to... _us_ , than what we can do for one another… physically,”

“I… I know that, Cas. Always. I mean… I—likewise,”

“You are important to me, Dean,” Cas said, his voice becoming earnest, and urgent, “I hope you… realise that,”

“I do, Cas,” Dean nodded, smiling into the phone, “back at you. I mean, same for me. I don’t… I know we’ve only just started this, but… but I’m kinda scared of… screwing this up,”

“Dean. You and I, we have a… history. We have not arrived _here_ without… conflict, and… _discussion_. But we are… we are here now. I think, if we agree to be honest, and not to… keep things from one another, then I think that… that we will both be fine. That _we_ will be fine. I am no expert on these things, but I… I _want_ that, more than anything,”

Dean smiled into the phone, leaning into Cas’ words, and allowed himself to feel excitement at the thought of _them_.

“Me too, Cas,” he replied, sighing to himself, “me too,”

* * *

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) if you read the notes, this is the point in the story where we switch from 'teen and up' to 'mature', just to give you a headsup.

“Hel—”

Cas didn’t make it much past a humph of surprise on opening his motel room door, for Dean to be already stepping through the doorway, throwing his bag to the floor, and cupping Cas’ jaw with one hand, pulling him in for a breath-stealing kiss. His other hand came up in mirror as he kicked the door closed behind him, before Dean surged forward, humming in approval as Cas wrapped his arms tight around his waist. Dean hummed to himself again as he hooked his elbows over Cas’ shoulders and crossed his forearms behind his head, smiling against his mouth.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean mumbled into his ear, pleased to hear Cas’ awkward swallow, then pressed a kiss to the shell of it and pulled in close for a hug, snorting into his shoulder when Cas gave a muffled reply.

“Man, I needed that,” Dean told him, kissing at his temple, cheek, and jaw before claiming his mouth once again. It was probably far too soon to be thinking how much he’d missed kissing Cas already, and missed him generally, but, Dean huffed to himself, he couldn’t give a fuck.

“I am pleased you are back,” Cas said, low and spoken practically into his skin, leaving Dean sighing out pleased, and pulling him even closer. “What time did you leave?”

“Early,” Dean admitted with a snort, nuzzling into him, “Sam’s pissed,”

“Where is he?”

“Sleeping,”

“You checked into a room?”

“Sam,” Dean winked, “Sam’s checked into a room. I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t mind me sleeping here,”

“It would be more economical,” Cas answered, trying and failing to keep himself from smiling.

“Uh huh. Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking,” Dean agreed, nodding, deliberately lingering his gaze on Cas’ lips.

“Practical,” Cas nodded, tilting his head just enough to brush their mouths together.

“It is,” Dean said, knocking his top lip against Cas’ in encouragement, then darting his tongue along the seam of it, “know what else is practical?”

“What?”

“Conserving water. We should, you know. Probably shower together. Responsible, you know?”

“It would be,” Cas nodded, still attempting to be solemn, “water is an important resource,”

“Exactly,” Dean agreed, dropping to mouth along his neck as he slid his fingers down into Cas’ jean pockets, then claiming his mouth again in a gasping kiss.

“Are you… not staying?” Cas panted when they pulled apart again, tugging on the ends of  Dean’s jacket. Dean paused to look down having completely forgotten he was still wearing it, then raised his head again and shrugged.

“Wanna help me with that?” he teased, and felt his stomach clench for the glint in Cas’ eye as he reached up, sliding his fingers beneath and easing the jacket off each of his shoulders in turn, throwing it to the chair near the door, then slipping his hands up the back of Dean’s shirt and letting out a pleased hum.

“Boots,” Cas mumbled against his lips, not giving Dean chance to comment for the way he dropped immediately to his knees, looking up at him as he rested his palms against his shins then slid them up along his thighs. Dean had to swallow a couple of times to get some moisture back in his mouth.

Without taking his eyes off Dean’s, Cas unlaced his boots, then helped him steady himself as he kicked them off, and again as he bent to pull off his socks. Then took Dean’s extended hand to pull himself to his feet, immediately leaning in for another kiss.

“So you’re okay with us just hanging out here for a while?” Dean asked, working his fingers under Cas’ shirt and pressing them against his stomach.

“If at some point soon, we will be on the bed, yes,”

“Shit,” Dean said, pulling back and holding lightly around his waist, “you okay? Aching, or—”

“Dean,” Cas interrupted, raising one shrewd eyebrow and giving him a look that said he thought Dean was an idiot, then stroked his hands up over the front of Dean’s t-shirt, nudging at his shirt to start pulling it off.

“Oh…” Dean managed, shrugging out of his shirt in seconds, then finding himself swallowing hard again, as Cas pressed his fingers into his skin, then under the hem of his t-shirt, and raised that up over his head as well.

Immediately Cas had his hands on him, seeming unable to touch enough of him at once, all whilst trying to kiss him urgently but getting himself far too distracted by Dean’s skin against his palms.

“Is this okay?” Dean asked, pinching the top button of Cas’ shirt between his thumb and finger, ducking a fraction to catch his eye.

“Dean—”

“We don’t have to… you know we don’t have to—”

“Have you considered that I might _want_ to?” Cas retorted, trailing his fingertips down Dean’s sides and smiling at his answering shiver.

Dean’s throat clicked audibly, and it took him a couple of goes to be able to even form words again. “I know, but—”

“I thought I had made myself clear during our call, Dean,” Cas said, nuzzling at his throat, “I want to see you. And I want to touch you. I want… and unless you do _not —_”

“I do,” Dean nodded rapidly, backing that up with a kiss, whilst breathing in a little, like that might reduce the way his fly was now digging into him, “I do, I just don’t wanna rush—”

“Then we will not rush,” Cas agreed with a smile, gripping Dean’s fingers and pulling them back up to press over his shirt button.

Dean’s heart gave a violent thud, and he raised his other hand to shakily begin unbuttoning Cas’ shirt, torn between wanting to kiss his way down his chest as he did, and to just rip the thing off him so he could get at his skin. But instead, he settled for watching the heated way Cas stared back at him the entire time, making his fingers tremble even harder.

When he’d got Cas’ shirt off, Dean first cupped his face to kiss him thoroughly once again, then trailed his hands down his throat, over his chest, thumbs scratching over his nipples on the way, and his own breath catching for seeing Cas’ stomach ripple in answer. But then he caught sight of Cas’ tattoo, and felt his knees actually start to buckle, so tried to back him up towards the bed.

Cas stopped him, froze Dean to the spot by resting his fingers on the buckle of his belt, beginning a messy tangle of them frantically helping each other out of their jeans, laughing for the way they both almost crashed to the floor in their haste. They paused for a moment, taking the time to let their eyes linger over each other, then stepped closer again, both letting out soft gasps as their tenting boxers knocked together. Dean dropped his forehead down on Cas’ shoulder and mumbled _bed_ there, feeling him nod, and step back.

Cas kneeled his way on to the bed, then flopped over on to his back, immediately reaching for and guiding Dean to straddle his thighs. Dean bent for a second to lave his tongue over Cas’ tattoo, mumbling things against it that even he didn’t understand, then shuffled forward to settle over him and stirred his hips, grinding them together, and watching Cas’ eyes the entire time.

Finding his rhythm, Dean rocked in Cas’ lap, hands braced against his chest with his thumbs brushing over his nipples, gasping out as Cas’ hands slid straight down the back of his boxers. With a hard, claiming squeeze, Cas pulled him down, rolling his hips up in a slow grind, his eyes lingering their way down Dean’s chest and settling over where they knocked together. Dean hummed to himself, curling over a little more, just enough to join Cas in watching, matching Cas’ rolls, then dropped himself down on to his forearms with a whimper, licking his way into Cas’ mouth. His fingers splayed against the mattress, thumbs catching and playing with strands of Cas’ hair, and generally feeling like he might have to pinch himself at any minute to make sure this— _they_ , were really happening.

“This is… unreal,” Dean blasted out after a second of consideration, pulling back to catch Cas’ smile.

“What?”

“ _This_ ,” Dean repeated, emphasizing it first with a stroke of his thumb against Cas’ temple, then a soft kiss to his lips, and finally a slow, leisurely stirring of his hips that had Cas moaning softly, and arching up beneath him. “I never… I gotta tell you, I thought about doing… all kindsa things with you, in about a million different ways,”

“Then between us we have a lot of things to… discover,” Cas smiled, sliding his fingers still inside Dean’s boxers around to grip his hips, and that smile widening for his answering tremble.

“These _scenarios_ of yours?” Dean stuttered, stretching against him.

“Exactly,” Cas answered, nuzzling against his cheek before kissing it, “I want to learn… _everything_ there is to know about you,”

“Fair,” Dean agreed, leaning down for another kiss.

Dean lost track of time, and himself in Cas, as kisses and words of encouragement joined their hands in their unhurried exploring of each other. Any concern Dean might have had about the first time them being together being awkward, or stilted, or even too soon, felt unnecessary. They just fit; every _how did you get this scar_ , and _what if I do it here_ and _fuck, that’s good, do it again_ , was easy between them. Honestly, Dean thought to himself, when they finally—like they’d forgotten they’d ever intended to—got round to shimmying out of their boxers and throwing them to the floor; this was nothing short of confirmation that the dance they’d been doing around each other for so long had been absolutely worth the wait, and long overdue.

The moment they were naked, Cas urged Dean over on to his back, sinking down between his legs and pressing their cocks together, letting out a noise somewhere between a groan and a hiss. At Cas’ confused command for him to _come here_ , Dean pulled him closer, spreading his legs a little wider, and bracing his feet against the bed. And Cas answered that with a roll of hips that dropped Dean’s head back against the pillow with a blast of air, and led to more frantic kisses as they writhed together, repeatedly knocking the headboard back against the wall.

“They will complain—”

“Don’t care,” Dean blasted back, grabbing Cas’ ass and grinding up against him harder, trying to chase his mouth but failing for the way Cas circling his hips forced out another desperate groan from him instead. And honestly, Dean thought, as Cas dropped his head into his neck with a blast of breath and a bite to it, he really didn’t care about anything, besides that heat building in him, and Cas’ skin on his, and every filthy noise that punched out of his mouth.

Dean felt his name growled into his neck, and Cas tense with a final shudder, then a spurt of warmth shot between them, and that extra slickness against his cock helped drag him over the edge as well. Cas collapsed on him with a huff, nuzzling and mouthing repeatedly up the length of his neck before dropping his head there with a groan, and sliding his hands across the mattress to hold Dean close at every point possible.

Dean swept his tired though greedy hands up Cas’ back and hugged him closer, letting his legs splay then slide until they came to rest against the bed, finally hooking his ankles over Cas’. Cas hummed into his neck and gave another slow stir of his hips, then raised his head, grinning down at Dean in triumph before leaning forward to claim another kiss.

“You’re looking pretty pleased with yourself,” Dean observed between kisses, though felt his own smile stretching across his face.

“I have every reason to be pleased,” Cas countered, then raised himself up enough to peer down at the mess between their stomachs and let out another amused huff. Dean complained at the sudden rush of coldness between them and pulled Cas back to him, wrapping him up in his arms once again.

“So,” he said half-heartedly, kissing it into Cas’ temple as he settled against him, a soft sigh blasting against his skin, “how ‘bout that shower, huh?”

Cas mumbled something that sounded a lot like, _five minutes_ , then shuffled even closer still.

* * *

This was easy, Dean thought, repeatedly glancing down at Cas’ fingers tangled through his own, then up again to take in their surroundings; this was so easy. _They_ were easy; how could two people that made everything so complicated have this simplicity between them after literal years of self-denial, and overthinking things?

The question kept returning to Dean, but was overruled by just how good it felt to be out there, holding Cas’ hand, like it was the simplest action in the world. Even the blush he caught himself having for _thinking_ such things was scorned away, and for once, Dean allowed himself to just _enjoy_ something without considering the consequences or unforeseen problems.

“I came here for lunch yesterday,” Cas said, nodding to a sign outside a small cafe spilling out on to the street with a collection of mismatched furniture, “their soup is delicious,”

“You had enough to eat?” Dean asked, smiling and peering in to the cafe in passing. They had, on Cas’ insistence after a lengthy shower, left their motel room mid-afternoon, and headed for the first place they could find serving burgers. Dean had teased Cas about them working up an appetite, but his own stomach had then grumbled loudly, and Cas had grinned at him and shrugged, then ordered the largest meal he could find on the menu.

“Yes,” Cas answered said with a small smile, “though I would appreciate coffee,”

“How ‘bout there?” Dean asked, pointing with his free hand to a stall just inside the park gates. “We can grab a cup, walk round if you want,” to which Cas nodded in agreement and squeezed his hand, stepping out into the road.

Cas had also insisted that they go for a walk, _get some air_ , Dean smiled to himself, tilting his chin at the coffee menu and waiting for Cas to choose. In another life he might have objected to that, instead preferred to stay holed up in their room for more of that _exploring_ they’d been doing. But with Cas, it felt like there wouldn’t be an end to the things he wanted to experience with him; including stuff he’d normally dismiss or snide at, like taking a walk for no other reason than just wanting to.

“Tell me more about this _Joshua Wood_ ,” Cas prompted, once they had their drinks, slotting his hand back into Dean’s as though it was already second nature. Dean’s mood immediately dipped, thinking he’d rather talk about probably anything else. But since they were planning on visiting Joshua in the morning, they had to talk about it, so squeezed Cas’ hand and took a sip of his coffee, deciding how to start.

“Not much else to go on ‘sides what I told you over the phone,” he admitted, “seems like prior to his wife dying, he might’ve been a decent guy. Mechanic for this car recovery and repair place he’d been at since high school. No record or anything to say he got himself in any kinda trouble,”

“And his wife?”

“Kindergarten teacher. Died suddenly; death cert said it was a cerebral hemorrhage,”

“That had to have been difficult for Joshua. And Thomas,” Cas added, sounding far more sympathetic than Dean felt himself.

“Yeah,” he agreed anyway, “don’t mean he had to drag his kid off like that though, right? What kinda life could you give a kid bouncing around in carnivals with no kinda stability, huh?”

“It is… questionable, why he would not have sought the comfort of family, his wife’s family, their friends—”

“‘Cos he’s a selfish bastard putting his own grief before the needs of his kid,” Dean bit back, that rage that had flared in him the previous day stirring awake in his gut.

“I do not disagree,” Cas assured him, nudging softly against his upper arm, “though it is difficult to know how anyone would respond to such a loss,”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Dean said, taking another gulp of his coffee, “if it were me? I’d be clinging on to my kid tight, making sure _they_ had everything they needed, ‘fore I even _thought_ about myself. Not… running away ‘cos I didn’t know how to handle stuff. I mean, kid lost his mom; how’s he gonna have gotten okay with _that_ , if they were constantly on the move, huh?”

“That is because of who you are, Dean,” Cas smiled, warm and proud, lightly squeezing his fingers, “you are a selfless, caring man, who has spent his life putting the needs of others before his own; of _course_ you would prioritise a child’s comfort, or distress, over your own,”

“Hey,” Dean said, surprising Cas by leaning in to kiss him quickly, winking as he pulled away, “don’t gotta butter me up to get in my pants; you kind of already did that,”

“And yet you insist on twisting any compliment you receive, any… positive judgment of your character, into a glib comment, or joke. Interesting,” Cas observed, one shrewd eyebrow making Dean dart his eyes elsewhere.

“I’ll tell you what’s interesting,” Dean countered, blushing a little, “I—”

But Cas stopped him from speaking altogether by turning and crowding into him, and kissing him quiet. “You were saying?”

“I was saying,” Dean said, muffled and slightly dazed, but Cas kissed him again, leaning hard up against him and moaning softly against his mouth, “that I—”

“If you are attempting to say anything derogatory about yourself, then I will continue to stop you,” Cas warned him, leaning a little harder.

“Well you’re not exactly motivating me to _stop_ ,” Dean pointed out, grinning, carefully curling his arm around Cas’ waist so his coffee didn’t spill, then dropping his other hand to bring it up to cup Cas’ face.

Cas hummed in consideration, then slid his hand up Dean’s back to rest between his shoulder blades, opening his mouth up to him and smiling as his stomach rippled against his own. Dean shuffled closer still, and that anger surging in him began to fade around the edges if not completely flicker out. He sighed when he pulled back, rolling his eyes but leaning back for another quick kiss, before throwing his arm around Cas’ shoulders and turning him back out to keep walking.

“Do we know anything of Thomas?” Cas asked after a few minutes of silence, and Dean could only shake his head and sigh.

“Nothing. We found records of him, full medical records and stuff, and enrollment into school and everything, up to the age of six. I think he’d just finished kindergarten, but. We don’t know anything about him,” Dean sighed, unable to keep the wistful tone from it. “We don’t know his favorite color, or story, if he liked video games, or... playing with cars, or… nothing at all,”

“It is… difficult,”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, kissing Cas’ temple, “I mean, what kinda—if he spent his whole childhood bouncing from carnival to carnival, what kinda... How’d he ever have a chance of figuring out the stuff he _liked_ , you know? Like… not without ideas being forced him, ‘cos there weren’t any other choices?”

“Children are resourceful,” Cas suggested, “you yourself had a similar… _upbringing —_”

Dean winced at Cas’ sneering of the word, though couldn’t deny his implication, so said nothing.

“—and you found the time to discover things that you enjoyed for yourself,”

“Yeah, but it’s not like… it’s not like I had a whole bunch of stuff to choose from, is it? I mean, ‘sides looking after Sam, and… the bit of school we had, and hunting, and stuff, I didn’t—”

Dean paused to throw his empty coffee cup a little harder than intended into a trash can, then raised his free hand in a shrug. “I mean sure; I knew what I liked reading, and watching, and listening to. What I liked eating if we… if we had the money for it. Or were staying at Bobby’s or something and he’d ask what we wanted. But I didn’t… I knew what I was _good_ at, more than… more than stuff I liked just for the sake of _liking_ it, you know?”

An odd feeling that he couldn’t really place settled in Dean’s chest then, though whichever way he tried to claw back his words, say them differently, he couldn’t deny they were anything but true.

“Yes. I do know,” Cas agreed, sad enough for Dean to desperately think of ways to change the subject, but ending up watching in silence as Cas lowered his own finished coffee far more softly into a trash can than he had done. “It is never too late to discover new things that you like, Dean. It does not… detract from what you endured as a child, but-”

“Cas—”

“But it is not too late to discover… to learn new things to appreciate, that you like doing, _just_ because you like doing them,” Cas insisted, slipping his hand around Dean’s back and squeezing. Dean closed his eyes, bit back all of the retorts that he didn’t mean, slid his hand from Cas’ shoulder to turn his face towards him, and leaned in for another kiss.

“We need to find _you_ some hobbies,” Dean said, pressing the words into his lips, smiling as Cas squeezed for him to stop, then shuffled into him to kiss him properly.

“We can find _hobbies_ for both of us,” Cas suggested, gripping him tightly, sighing as Dean tugged him closer still.

“When this is done. This case I mean,” Dean said then, curling his arm more protectively around Cas as a passing bike veered too close to them, “I’d like it if… I’d really like it if you and me could… could maybe take a little time to just… you know. Just like… go somewhere, or just… I don’t know. Take a break, or something,”

“I’d like that,” Cas agreed with a pleased smile, nuzzling against him.

“We’ll think about it some more, and… and I guess talk to Sam about it, but… I really want— _need_ to have some… to have some time with you. You know?”

“I do,” Cas replied, stretching up against him, “I would like that very much,”

* * *

The rest of the day passed with Dean willingly letting Cas tug him along to point out some of the things he’d discovered for himself the day before. They stopped at a community mural project to watch as artists sprayed their work on to the walls, with Cas taking a flyer from one of the artists _to Google later_ , having liked their art two days in a row. They passed a fountain, with Cas musing out loud, though mostly to himself, how they could collect all the coins that had been thrown in there to give to the homeless shelter he’d seen across the street. And when Cas pressed against Dean’s stomach to stop him walking forward, looked both ways on the street, then tugged him into the alcove of an old, disused building that he’d noticed earlier, and kissed him senseless, Dean could do nothing but go along with it, his heart soaring the entire time.

Dean smiled to himself at the simplicity of it, the simplicity of _them_ , secretly thinking that it had to have been years since he’d had this much fun doing nothing but wandering around. In fact, when he tried to remember the last time he’d done anything like that, he found he couldn’t, and wasn’t sure if that was due purely to the timescale, or because all he could focus on was just how happy he was to be with Cas.

They talked and wandered long into the evening, stopping briefly a couple of times for something to eat, then later for a beer, and made it back to their motel room after dark. Sharing a second shower and promising each other they’d go straight to sleep since they planned on setting off early in the morning, they tumbled into bed, full of laughter and a sense of closeness that Dean had never realized how much he’d been craving.  

With a tangle of limbs and a splaying of fingers, they continued talking about everything and nothing, trading soft kisses that stole their breath, repeatedly trying to kid themselves they were going to get enough sleep, and finally giving in to the need to, curled up in each other’s arms.

* * *

“Think you’re gonna manage to keep your eyes on the road, or you want me to come up there and drive, let you sit back here?”

Dean sent an appropriately fierce scowl to Sam in the rearview, and turned to check Cas was comfortable, then set off, taking a quick glance at an unexpected car pulling out in front of them, then steering out of the motel parking lot and on to the road.

“On second thoughts, if I’ve got you two here in the back seat making _slurpy_ noises when I’m driving—”

“Looking to learn a thing or two?” Dean retorted, cursing under his breath. He should know—he _did_ know —that the best way to deal with Sam being, well, _Sam_ , was to ignore it until he got bored. But he was sleepy, and his defenses were down, too happy to not be distracted, turning again to receive the consolation of Cas’ smile.

“Nope. Which reminds me; when we get there, and find a place to stay, wherever you two are staying? I’m staying the opposite side. Or the next motel,”

It was too early for this, Dean complained to himself, having set off before sunrise so they’d have time to stop halfway, yet still make it to Joshua by hopefully mid-afternoon at the latest. But having been snatched warm from his bed, from Cas again before he was ready, left Dean irritable, and groaning at the thought of being trapped with no escape from Sam’s teasing.

“Are you, like, twelve?” Dean bit back, cursing himself once again for reacting. “If you—”

Cas’ fingertips sliding across his thigh, coming to rest briefly in a light squeeze there, stole the words from Dean’s mouth, putting a strength in his spine that, if not blocked Sam’s snort out, then at least went some way to muffle it.

“Aww…”

“Are you gonna be like this, all the way there?” Dean sighed, though with less bite to it.

“Can—”

“If you are curious about intercourse, Sam. I am sure we can explain, in intimate detail, how—”

“Woah,” Sam backtracked hastily, and Dean caught his eyes flaring wide in the mirror, “no; no it’s okay, I—”

“Are you sure?” Cas asked, swiveling to look at him. Dean bit down hard on his lip to keep from laughing, as Cas twisted enough to raise his free hand up in the air between them, and form his thumb and forefinger into a circle that Sam couldn’t help look at. “Did you know that the number of nerve endings in the-”

“I don’t need to know—”

“You don’t wish to know what your own body is capable of?” Cas asked, in what sounded like incredulous surprise. Dean knew different for the twitch of his fingers dug into his thigh, and watched again as Cas straightened his finger out, then crooked it in mid-air.

“Uh, no—”

“And the prostate,” Cas continued, mildly, flexing that finger, and sounding as though he was reciting from a biology text, “Sam, are you aware that—”

“I don’t need to—”

“You don’t want to know how to pleasure yourse—”

“Okay, okay,” Sam stuttered out, raising his hands in defeat, “I’ll stop—”

“If you are certain,” Cas said, turning again to observe him half over his shoulder, “I am sure that we can—”

“Got it,” Sam bit back, shaking his head. Dean raised an eyebrow as he caught Sam’s eye again, not believing it was that easy to shut Sam up. And when Sam did nothing but grimace in mortification and snatch his gaze elsewhere, Dean reached out to where Cas had withdrawn his hand back into his own lap, raised it up and kissed the back of it, earning not even a single sound from Sam.

“Huh,” Dean said, smirking to himself, and sure he could feel Sam scowling into the back of his head. And for the next couple of hours driving, their conversation was neutral, quiet mumbles from Cas pointing out things as they passed, and Sam offering up comments and small bits of information that had Cas repeatedly turning around in his seat in genuine interest.

Dean listened to them talk, surprised to find himself relieved that nothing much seemed to have altered between Cas and Sam, for the changes between _them_. There was a quiet respect amongst the teasing, and a friendship that Dean was really, really relieved to be seeing, even if he already knew it was there.

Out of the corner of his eye, he continued watching, catching Cas sneaking glances in his direction, and feeling himself smile on reflex for every one. This was good, he thought, his chest swelling a touch for another example of just how easy things could be for them if he let it happen and didn't overthink things. Dean dared himself to hope for it, arguing against the voices in his head sneering that he shouldn’t.

“You wanna stop soon?” Dean asked softly, in a break in their conversation, reaching over and lightly bumping his fist on Cas’ thigh.

“I am fine, though I think perhaps we should stop shortly for _you_ to take a break,” Cas answered, squeezing around his fist and checking the time on his phone, waving it to make his point.

“‘nother hour,” Dean suggested, reaching up to trap Cas’ thumb beneath his own before sliding it away again, “gonna need to eat by then. And some coffee,”

Sam snorted from the back seat, muttering something Dean chose not to hear, and Cas apparently found funny for the way he dropped his eyes to his lap and smiled.

Cas’ phone beeped soon after, and from the way his face shifted from polite interest to wide smile, Dean would put money on the message being from Claire.

“Claire is… camping,” Cas said just a second later, appearing to zoom in on a picture, “this is a hummingbird moth,”

“Why’s she sending you pictures of bugs?” Dean laughed, though pleased to hear she was messaging him.

“She sent me a recording of cicadas before we left,” Cas said, still smiling affectionately at his phone, “and about a month ago, I received a message looking for reassurance that the beetle on her window was not a cockroach,”

“What was it?” Dean laughed again, glancing over to see him thumbing back a reply.

“A may beetle,” Cas replied with a soft sigh.

“She couldn’t ask Jody?” Sam added from the back, a smile in his voice.

“Jody was at work. Apparently, Claire was _five seconds from calling an exterminator_ ,”

“They’re kinda different-looking,” Sam added, and Dean would swear Cas’ shoulders squared out in defense.

“This beetle had an unusually shaped thorax,” Cas countered stiffly, and Dean found himself fighting back a smile.

“We should call Jody,” Dean said, turning to Cas and smiling, “said we’d think about paying a visit, so. Should arrange that. See when she’s free,”

“That would be good,” Cas agreed, returning that smile.

Sam pointed out a sign for an upcoming exit then, and they agreed on stopping, piling out of the car fifteen minutes later, and heading straight into the first place to eat they could find. Dean tried to follow Cas’ gaze out the window to see what he was looking at, but refrained from asking, instead drinking back his coffee in quick gulps and sighing in relief at the caffeine, already signaling for a refill.

“So maybe when we’re done here,” Sam said, mostly around a mouthful of food, “we can head back to the bunker for a day or so, then head on up to Jody? If no other cases come up, obviously,”

“Sounds good,” Dean agreed, “could even head straight there, depending on how long it takes us to get this thing sorted,”

“Claire tells me that there is a pancake place that is _to die for_ ,” Cas added, turning his head back to them and smiling again, “perhaps we should visit that,”

“Oh she does,” Dean said, nudging against him.

“Yes. Though I suspect it has something to do with a member of the staff there being both _hot_ , and _cute_ ,” Cas laughed to himself, reaching out for his sandwich as though he’d forgotten it was even there.

“She told you that?” Sam laughed, his fingers tapping around the edge of his coffee mug coming to a stop. Cas nodded in answer, humming around his food.

They finished quickly, wanting to get back on the road and up to Joshua as soon as possible. Cas asked for a minute, squeezing Dean’s arm and wandering off along the street to disappear into a doorway a little further down, with Sam walking in the other direction back to the car. Dean stood there undecided for a moment, then crossed back over the street to a small store, planning on picking up a few supplies for the drive and for their rooms once they got there.

Once in the store, and telling himself he wasn’t looking for it, Dean’s eyes lingered over the _personal_ _products_ sign, and in seconds he’d walked down the aisle in determination, snatched up a bottle of lube, and stowed it under his other purchases in the basket, blushing furiously for it. Telling himself how ridiculous he was being, he then slid the bottle into his inside jacket pocket the second he was outside, and hid it in his bag when putting everything in the trunk, slamming the lid a little too hard when Cas appeared out of nowhere beside him.

“You okay?” he asked, leaning into him, smiling when Cas automatically leaned back.

“Yes,” Cas nodded, pausing for a second then reaching out to squeeze his hand, “are you ready to leave?”

Dean wanted to ask where Cas had disappeared to, but chided himself for being nosey, so nodded, leaned for a quick kiss, then tilted his head towards the car.

“Think I’ve found somewhere for us to stay,” Sam said, the moment they sat down and slammed their doors closed.

“Not gonna just… see when we get there?”

“Nope,” Sam shook his head, and Dean stared in the mirror until Sam looked up, “this place we’re heading is small. There’s like… the nearest motel’s five miles out, and there’s one _lodge_ in the middle, so. I’ve booked us rooms there. Separate rooms. Two of ‘em,”

“I hope that they are sufficiently far apart so that we do not disturb you, Sam,” Cas said, his head turned towards the window and his tone indifferent, though his smile gave away the amusement he felt at his own words.

Sam snorted in the back but didn’t retaliate, which just seemed to make Cas’ smile harder still.

“So. We got anything else on this _Wood_?” Dean asked, not really expecting Sam to have found anything more since the previous day, yet wanting to change the subject, focus their attention a little, and to keep his mind from wandering back to what Cas may or may not have been implying.

“Not really,” Sam sighed, yawning, “I looked a little, but. I mean, if he’s been off the radar all that time, then I guess he’s not exactly wanting to draw much attention to himself. Knows how to keep his head down, not make a fuss, or anything,”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean sighed, “but how did… how did the hospital, the police, whoever—how’d they not keep _looking_ for this guy after he left his kid in the hospital?”

“Well, I mean, technically he didn’t identify himself in the hospital, so, they didn’t have that to start with. Didn’t really know it was _him_ ,” Sam replied, catching Dean’s scowl in the mirror.

“Yeah, but—”

“And… think about it. If they’d both already been, like… _absent_ for what… eight years? Records for them both would’ve been hard to trace-”

“Didn’t their families look for them, or anything?” Dean asked, that fury curling in his stomach once again, even for Cas’ reassuring squeeze against his leg. He grabbed Cas’ hand to squeeze it back before he withdrew it again though, sending a quick smile in his direction.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, pursing his lips and dropping his gaze down to his lap, “there was a brief appeal in the beginning, but… I guess they were all grieving too, and… I don’t know, Dean; they lost—I mean his wife’s family lost—”

“I don’t buy it,” Dean said, thumping his fist hard against his leg, “how’d.. how’d her family not try and find them. How’d _his_ family not… not… find him and kick his ass,”

“We don’t know what happened. We can’t know what happened,” Sam amended, his tone shifting and telling Dean he could hear his anger building.

“People just… if you wanna disappear off the grid, fine. Hell, we’ve done it enough times, and I get it. Sometimes you gotta just… disappear. But with a kid. A six-year-old, that just lost his _mom_ ,” Dean seethed, gripping tighter around the steering wheel and fighting the urge to nudge the pedal down.

“I don’t get it either,” Sam agreed, “it sucks. But if we can talk to this guy, make him listen, maybe… maybe we can _help_ Thomas in… in the only way we’ve got left to help him,”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t feel like enough. Not nearly enough,” Dean griped out, grinding his teeth. He felt Cas’ eyes boring into the side of his face and turned to offer a small smile, reaching out to hold his hand again, and letting it anchor him for a few seconds before pulling back. It was a weird feeling, having something to anchor him, someone to reach for in reassurance or when seeking comfort; Dean found himself turning to smile at Cas harder, and his small, confused smile back at him had Dean wanting to lean across the seat to kiss him, though he didn’t, for Sam being sat in the back.

Dean changed the subject again, taking them back once more to speaking of Jody, then continued to keep the conversation moving away from Joshua to keep his anger in check. At one point, Cas dozed against the window whilst Sam sprawled out doing the same across the back, and Dean found himself peaceful, smiling to see them both at rest.

He woke them when they were turning down the final street of their journey, watching again as they both stretched and yawned themselves awake.

“Looks like we lucked out,” Dean said, nodding towards the lodge they were pulling in to, then sighing in relief when he could finally cut the engine, and slumped back in his seat.

“What?” Sam said, following his gaze, and Dean catching him in the rearview as he shrugged.

“‘According to the address we got for this guy,” Dean replied, nodding out the window once again, “this place is like… five minutes away on foot,”

“Then we can walk,” Cas said, sounding pleased, cranking open the door and stepping out with a wide stretch, giving a little satisfied sigh as he did.

“You okay there?” Dean asked softly, immediately jumping out and coming around the car to Cas’ side, stopping awkwardly in front of him and scanning over his face for signs of pain.

“Yes,” Cas smiled, seeming even more pleased for his attention.

“You need to stop for a while, or—”

“I am fine,” Cas answered, shaking his head and leaning forward a little.

“You sure? ‘Cos we can—”

“Dean,” Cas said, closing the gap between them, though seeming to shield Dean from Sam’s view, nuzzling against his cheek and quickly kissing him, before pulling back again with a shy, triumphant smile.

Dean dropped his head immediately in embarrassment, flushing scarlet, but unable to resist raising his head to show Cas the ridiculous smile on his face, and reaching out to squeeze his fingers briefly before moving to the back of the car. He caught Sam’s expression, stuck between desperate to be teasing and obvious happiness for them, but darting a quick look in Cas’ direction, and apparently deciding against commenting either way.

Dean huffed to himself in amusement, then swung his bag up over his shoulder, extending Cas’ in his other hand as he walked towards him, and watching Sam as he ducked to retrieve his own.

* * *

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) just to warn you, this chapter has minor violence, anger, and the story of how our ghost came to be.

“Joshua Wood?”

At Sam’s calling out, the man stooped over a car engine continued working for another few seconds showing no signs of hearing him, then pulled back and straightened up, turning around to face them, narrowing his eyes as he looked them over.

“Who’s asking?”

Dean took in his immediate defensive tone and the way he squared his shoulders, and took an instant dislike. Not that he didn’t already hate the man, of course. “We are,”

“And who might you be?” the man answered, his eyes drifting slowly over Dean as though sizing him up.

“This how you get your customers?” Dean snorted, already feeling his temper running hot.

“Don’t even have a car. How could you be a customer?”

“We just wanna ask a few questions,” Sam tried, hands up as he took a step forward.

“Yeah, well, unless it’s about a car you want fixing—that’s _elsewhere_ ,” the man said, turning his back on them in dismissal, “I got no time for it,”

“Are you Thomas Wood’s father?”

Cas’ question had him stiffen, then pivot to regard him coldly, arms raising up to fold tight across his chest.

“Might’ve been,” he said after a few long seconds of waiting.

“You either are or you aren’t,” Dean spat at him, glaring back hard.

“You the authorities or something?”

“No,”

“Brady sent you? ‘Cos I kept my mouth shut, just like he told me to,”

“We don’t know anybody called _Brady_ ,” Sam interrupted, his voice raising a little.

“And shut up about what, huh? You let your kid get killed and then just… walk away?” Dean added, gritting his teeth.

Joshua’s eyes drifted between the three of them a little more thoroughly this time, and a wrench gripped tight in his hand shifted a little, as though to make them aware of its presence. When finished, Joshua then leaned back against the car with a huff, pinching his lips together as though refusing to speak. Dean watched him, taking in the way he didn’t run, didn’t look to be trying to get away from them, yet also didn’t show even an ounce of emotion, and felt his hatred surge.

“Look,” Sam tried again, “we’re just trying to figure a few things out,”

“What’s it got to do with you? My kid died six years ago. _My_ kid; no one else’s. What business is that of anyone’s? What’s there to _figure out_?” Joshua countered, snarling the final words out.

“How it happened? Why it happened? Why you took off and essentially dumped his body in a hospital?” Dean retorted, his voice raising with every question, and his anger spiking.

“I’ll say it again: what business is it of yours?” Joshua glared back at them, focusing his anger on Dean, the wrench menacingly slammed between his palms. “You don’t look like anyone important,”

We—”

“You’re not police, you’re not the state, you’re not _anyone_ ,” Joshua sneered, “and apparently you’re not from the carnival either, so get the fuck off my property and leave me be,”

“Did you mourn him?” Dean asked, stepping forward, his fists bunching tightly down by his sides. “Did you even give a thought to him when you just _left_ him there to die, huh?”

“I didn’t leave him to—”

“He was a _kid_ ,” Dean seethed, fury cracking his voice, “you should’ve… you just _left_ him there in that hospital, like he was some mangy dog you didn’t care ‘bout leaving behind,”

“For the last time,” Joshua said, through grit teeth, gesturing at Dean with the head of the wrench, “what business is it of yours? ‘Cos unless I’m in some kinda trouble here. Unless you prove you’re anyone worth talking to; I don’t gotta answer to any of this,”

“You will answer this,” Cas said, calmly and with authority, glancing over Joshua with obvious distaste. Cas’ eyes fell to the wrench in Joshua’s hand, and he smiled as though mildly amused by it, and for a second, all Dean could see was the angel he had first met. Powerful, commanding their attention, and clearly not considering that anyone might ever deny him it. Dean watched Joshua’s stance shift, a flicker of doubt cross his face, and his mouth set into a thin line.

“What? What the hell do you wanna know?” Joshua said finally, his eyes darting away from Cas’ stare, glaring at Dean in passing, then settling on Sam for a second before staring off over his shoulder.

“Tell us what happened to your son,” Sam said, quiet and placating, and much kinder than Dean felt he ought to be.

Again Joshua looked between the three of them as though weighing up his options, then let out a heavy sigh, slumping a little more, and wiping a hand over his face, then nodding. “My son and me, after my wife died, we… we left our—my hometown, took up some work with a carnival for a while. Wasn’t gonna be anything permanent, but it just sort of… stuck,”

“He was six, right?” Dean added for him, accusation filling his tone.

“Yeah, he was six,” Joshua nodded, defensive, the wrench now less threatening as he bounced it repeatedly against his thigh, as though nervous. “What was I supposed to do, huh? His mom just died; I weren’t gonna leave him with nobody else, and had no reason to stick around, so. Why not?”

“Why not give him a chance in life, huh?” Dean countered. “Stick him in a school somewhere, get him some stability after he lost his _mom —_”

“I _did_ stick him in a school sometimes,” Joshua argued, “it didn’t fit,”

“You mean, it didn’t fit _you_ , constantly moving,” Dean argued back, narrowing his eyes.

“How’d the accident happen?” Sam interrupted, a pleading look at Dean that he took to mean to back off, but didn’t.

Joshua glared back at Dean as though daring him to look away first, then cast a quick look in Cas’ direction and sighed, relenting. “Carnival we ended up on when he was… when _that_ happened, it… it wasn’t ideal. I mean, we’d only been with ‘em since the start of the season, and I guess there were some good people —”

“Good enough to let a kid get killed?”

“Hey. If I could point the finger of blame at any one person for what happened; if that would bring him back, don’t you think I would?” Joshua blasted back at him.

“Uh, how ‘bout we find you a mirror for that, huh?” Dean answered, bitingly, pointing in the direction of the house behind them, and unable to get a hold on his temper no matter how hard he tried to talk himself down.

“So it’s _my_ fault the whole place was full of shoddy electrics and cabling is it?” Joshua huffed, appearing to want to sound dismissive though failing for the slump of his shoulders and the doubt behind his tone.

“Is if you left your kid in that kinda place,”

“I didn’t _leave_ him there, I _worked_ there. And besides, it’s not like he was a _kid_ kid —”

“Was when you started out,” Dean pointed out, and Joshua’s scowl said just how much he didn’t want to hear that.

“He was a _teenager_ ,” Joshua continued, “wandered off after we’d got into an argument, and… got himself behind one of the rides. There was this little hidey spot all the kids from the carnival used to hang out away from us parents and stuff. Pass bottles of cheap liquor when they thought we weren’t looking. Smoking, hooking up; all kindsa stuff,”

“And what happened?” Sam asked, staring at him beseechingly, where Dean was still just fighting the urge to punch him.

Joshua’s gaze fell to the floor and stayed there for a long pause, then raised back up, sadness finally seeming to line his face. “Told you. Carnival was full of bad electrics, wirings and all that. Thomas just… he must’ve gripped hold of something loose underneath that ride, that was charged—exposed, or something, and just got _stuck_ there, you know? I found him —”

Dean watched as Joshua paused and grimaced, imagining him reliving the moment, and felt sorry for him for all of a second.

“—and he was just _screaming_. They cut the power out, and I tried to kick, grab the cabling away from. Got burns all up my arms for it,” he added, rolling his sleeves up to show faint scars all the way up his forearms and over his hands.

“And then what?” Dean demanded, not even showing him the courtesy of looking at those scars for more than a glimpse.

“I just… I held him,” Joshua said, closing his eyes and seeming to shrink in on himself. “He couldn’t see me, couldn’t do anything, and I just… I just froze. One of the guys tried to help me up with him, but Brady comes along—”

“Who’s Brady?” Sam asked, waving his hand to interrupt.

“Brady’s the guy who owns Erdbeere,” Joshua sighed, wiping a hand over his face again, “Brady pulled me up, helped me carry Thomas to one of the wagons. We tried to… I mean, it was obvious he wasn’t gonna make it—”

“How could you know that?” Dean yelled. “You a doctor on the side or something?”

“He wasn’t responding—to anything. He was just… out of it. Convulsing. Lips went blue, eyes rolling back in his head—”

“So why the hell didn’t you take him straight to a hospital?” Dean asked again, his fury growing even more.

“Brady talked me out of it,” Joshua said, darting his eyes away, and for the first time in the conversation looking guilty, which made Dean sick to his stomach. “He said… he said the carnival would close if people found out, and I’d be putting a load of people out of work. And I’d—I mean I kept Thomas on the road with me most of his life, and… Brady made it sound like I could get into a helluva lot of trouble for that, for not keeping him in school and stuff,”

“So you left your kid to die, is basically what you’re saying,” Dean summed up for him. Joshua squared his shoulders for all of a second then dropped them again in defeat.

“We made him as comfortable as we could, you know? Cleaned him up a bit. I… he had this favorite shirt he was always wearing, falling half to shreds. I… I dressed him in it for when I… when I took him to the hospital,”

“A day later,” Dean seethed, curling up his fists tighter still.

“Dean—” Sam pleaded, but Dean was past listening.

“And then what?”

Joshua stared back at him again, and Dean watched as the defiance, the fight faded from his eyes. “Brady drove us. Away from the carnival, ‘cross the town somewhere. Put a wad of bills in my shirt pocket and just… left us there. Told me not to follow, not to come looking, ‘less I wanted trouble. Threw a bag of my stuff that he must’ve packed up himself out of the car when he drove away. And when Thomas gave up, I, uh…”

“Left him,” Dean finished for him with a bite of disgust.

“You here to turn me in?” Joshua went back to the engine of the car, leaving Dean to scowl at the slump of his shoulders, fighting the urge to lash out. “‘Cos I promised I’d finish this thing by sun down—”

“What for? To who? You dragged your kid across the country and let him die in a shitty carnival, then left him in a fucking hospital, but what? What are we gonna do about it after all this time, huh? Who’s gonna believe anything? Are we turning you in for letting your kid die, or abandoning his body in a hospital and just… living your life somewhere else, when he couldn’t, ‘cos of _your_ choices? What?”

“Dean,” Cas’ low, urgent voice called to him, but Dean was in no mood for it, charged with so much anger that he shrugged right out of Cas’ grip.

“You think I don’t think about Thomas every night?” Joshua bit back with an angry whirl, coming to stop right in front of Dean and glaring up at him, the wrench clattering down by his feet. Dean didn’t even flinch; if anything, leaned in, wanting to goad him into striking out first so he’d have something to hit out at. Needing something to take away the fury coursing through him.

“What difference does it make now, huh? He’s dead. He’s _dead_ , while you’re here living some kinda apple pie life doing some kinda _service_ , acting like you’re a real good guy. What’d you tell people round here, huh?” Dean seethed, gesturing with a wide waved arm behind him, “give ‘em some kinda sob story—”

“I’m widowed; that’s not any _story_ ,”

“Yeah, well, you lost a damn sight more than just a _wife_ when you did what you did,” Dean retorted, and Joshua took a final step closer until he was bumping up against Dean’s chest.

Dean couldn’t tell who had initiated it, but out of nowhere Joshua was yanked back from him, with Sam’s hand gripped tightly around his upper arm, whilst Cas shoved against his chest hard enough to make Joshua stumble backwards into the car, then stood just to the side of him, poised as though ready to strike.

“You know, I don’t care if you think you did the right thing. Hell, I don’t even care if you’re still grieving. Fact is, you abandoned your kid. You robbed him of a childhood, and when he got hurt in _your_ place of work you left him to —”

“What was I supposed to do?” Joshua blasted back at him, his expression torn between wounded, and furious. “I can… I _will_ , regret all the choices I made leading up to that point, until the day I die. After, probably. But whatever I do, whatever I think now? Not one thing is gonna bring Thomas back. Nothing. No matter how bad I want it, or how many… how many nights I dream about it,”

“Thomas didn’t _get_ to have dreams, ‘cos of —”

“So, am I supposed to just... stop living?” Joshua demanded, his voice raising, and breaking at the same time. “You think I could do anything to… I don’t know, get those bastards at Erdbeere back? Get my wife, my kid, my _life_ back? ‘Cos believe me; I’ve thought about it. I’ve even tried, but they’ve disappeared off the map,”

“Yeah, wonder why,” Dean spat back at him, wrenching his eyes away to stare at the ground for all of a second before glaring once again.

“Look,” Sam said, appearing to be patient, though Dean could see his own anger simmering away beneath the surface, “Erdbeere kept on trading, under different names, till about five years ago,”

“How’d it last that long?” Joshua snorted, shaking his head.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Dean growled, watching Joshua’s jaw clench ready to retort, “‘cos of scum like you?”

“You—”

“Then there was a fire that took the whole carnival out, and they just… abandoned it,” Sam cut in with, turning his head between the two of them, and again silently pleading with Dean to keep calm.

“What, like, the whole crew ran off?” Joshua huffed in disbelief. “They’d never to that. Brady had us all—”

“Yeah, the whole crew ran off,” Sam confirmed with a stiff nod, “left the burned out husk of the carnival on the outskirts of a town we’ve just come from,”

“Well… good,” Joshua said decisively after pausing for a minute.

“You think we came all this way to give you good news?” Dean scoffed, bunching his fists down by his sides and forcing himself to stand still.

“Why are you here?” Joshua asked then, suspicion finally replacing the snide dismissal he’d greeted them with.

“You might… wanna go somewhere else to hear this,” Sam suggested, finally loosening his grip on his arm.

Joshua shrugged indignantly once Cas stepped back as well, glaring at the three of them then folding his arms in tight. “It’s my yard. My work. Nothing you can’t tell me here,”

“It’s... not exactly an easy subject,” Sam tried, his eyes darting between Dean and Joshua, seeming to be trying to gauge their mood.

“Try me,” Joshua answered, catching Dean’s eye yet again and staring him down.

“Alright,” Dean agreed, “we think Thomas is there,”

Joshua’s eyes grew round, his mouth falling open in disbelief, and a little huff falling out of his mouth a moment later, before his face contorted into a furious scowl. “What kinda... what kinda sick joke do you—”

“It is not a joke,” Cas interrupted, calm and quiet, staring until Joshua was forced to look at him instead.

“How’s it not—”

“We have reason to believe that Thomas’s spirit is trap—”

“ _Spirit_?” Joshua repeated mockingly, now staring Cas down in contempt.

“Yeah, douchebag, _spirit_ ,” Dean repeated, pacing closer, grabbing him by the neck of his overalls and shoving him roughly back against the car. “We didn’t travel all this way for you to be mouthing off like a dick,”

“So why—”

“Your kid’s ghost is still attached to the damn carnival that killed him. Hell, he probably started the fire that set the whole thing off,” Dean scoffed, gripping a little tighter and shoving him again. “Fact is, on the anniversary of the fire, that carnival sparks to life. Kids hang out in that place at night, people get chased off, grabbed at, all kindsa stuff goes down; you wanna be responsible for—”

“What’s that gotta do with—”

“When’s Thomas’ birthday?” Sam asked, a little softer, looking pleadingly at Dean to let Joshua go, which he couldn’t, fingers too tightly bunched into the material there to move at all.

“What?”

“He said,” Dean growled out, and squeezing, “what’s Thomas’ date of birth?”

After an extended, reluctant pause, Joshua cleared his throat, and answered doubtfully, with, “July 17th,”

Sam’s shoulders dropped in what might have been relief before he nodded, and he waited a moment then asked, “And what date do you think the carnival fire happened?”

Joshua's eyes grew wider still, and Dean gave one more hard shove then stepped back, glaring at him with disgust as he flexed his fingers, trying to get some feeling back into the ends of them.

“Fire started in the House of Mirrors,” Dean said then, sounding just as tired as he was feeling. “Kids started saying they saw a figure in the mirrors there. Hell, I saw something in there. I got dragged in there and nearly choked to death on the smoke,”

The color had drained completely from Joshua’s face by the time Dean had finished speaking. “House of Mirrors?” he repeated, dazed, to which Dean nodded back.

“Yeah, House of Mirrors,” Dean retorted, glaring at him.

“That’s… that’s the last place I saw Thomas,” Joshua said, his voice just above a whisper.

“Great,” Dean nodded, with a twist of a smile, feeling the urge to hit him all over again.

“We’d… we’d just had an argument. It was his birthday; I told him to go do something with his friends—or go make some. He said he just wanted to go into town away from the carnival for dinner and a movie with me. We… argued about me never taking any time off...”

Dean lost it. Sam and Cas’ joint calls for him to stop did nothing, didn’t penetrate the shroud of anger that had him dragging Joshua to his feet and punching him hard. A soft _oof_ only infuriated him further, grabbing Joshua again as he stumbled and striking him harder, this time hearing the satisfying crack of his knuckles connecting with Joshua’s jaw.

Joshua staggered backwards against the car, clutching at his face as blood began to pool in the corner of his mouth, and it called Dean forward, intent on pummelling until the _hollow_ feeling in him lessened. But a shoulder shoved against his chest, and Cas’ fierce, though quiet urging of his name, silenced the whining in his ears calling for blood. He stepped back in a daze, shoving back half-heartedly, and earning himself a glare.

Dean watched, as Sam turned to check on him briefly, then stepped forward, muttering unsympathetically at Joshua and reaching out to check on his face, rolling his eyes at his answering yelp of pain. Joshua spat twice, then bunched up the sleeve of his overalls and pressed it to his face, glaring at Dean over the top of it, then grumbling something at Sam and nodding towards the house.

“Why don’t you head on back. I’ll meet you there,” Sam said, the clench of his jaw showing he was torn between anger and sympathy for Dean.

Dean answered with a tight nod, both surprised and not surprised when Cas immediately fell into stride beside him, though didn’t utter a single word. Back in their room Cas continued to say nothing, instead lifted Dean’s hands to gently inspect his knuckles, which thankfully though were smarting showed no signs of any real damage. Cas swirled his thumb over one anyway and let out a soft sigh, raising Dean’s hand enough to drop a kiss there.

“Joshua appears to be a… troubled, man,” Cas settled on saying, dropping his hand, then shrugging out of his trenchcoat and absently hanging it on a hook by the door.

“You mean a dick,” Dean corrected for him, still fuming, flexing his fingers and sighing to feel no real tug of swelling when he made a fist.

“A dick,” Cas amended with a tight smile, “one that clearly struggled with being a father,”

“He didn’t struggle,” Dean denied, pointing at the door, “he just didn’t give a damn. I mean, who uproots a kid from his home, when his mom’s just died, prob’ly away from grandparents, and family, and—and friends? And drags him halfway across the country, giving him _no_ kinda stability, no chance to.... No chance to _make_ anything of himself, huh?”

“ _Your_ father,” Cas suggested, with an edge to his voice, calling Dean to listen to him. Dean seethed that Cas had even made the connection, arguing with himself that John had nothing to do with it at all.

“My dad was a lot of things, Cas,” he bit back, glowering as he nodded, “but he wouldn't've… he wouldn’ve left me in a hospital like that—”

“He left you alone in motel rooms for days on end,” Cas countered, glaring back at him, “he left you without food, without heat, without… he left you in charge of Sam when you were still only a child _yourself._  Dean,”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, swallowing hard, “but he never—”

“He left you in that… boy’s home, Dean,” Cas argued, his voice raising, “he left you there, after you were caught stealing _food_ for Sam. Because he was not there to _provide_ for you,”

“Yeah, well. ‘S different,”

“How is that any different?” Cas answered, his voice full of angry bewilderment. “Dean, you have said it yourself. Joshua took Thomas away from his family, his home, dragged _him_ across the country, without education, or —or _nurturing —_”

“I mean it was bad; I _know_ it was bad; but you can’t even compare the two,” Dean argued back, shaking his head, ignoring all the images flashing for him despite his words.

“I am not comparing the two. _You_ are,” Cas bit back at him, eyes narrowing in utter disbelief. “This case, Dean. Ever since you discovered Thomas’ story, you have been _angry_ with Joshua,”

“‘Course I’m _angry_ , Cas,” Dean laughed, “who wouldn’t be angry hearing what that bastard did?”

“But you are not angry at _him_ , Dean,” Cas said, beginning to sound exasperated, “you are angry with your _own_ father. You are angry with _yourself_. And because you will not _allow_ yourself that anger you are… you are channeling it on to Joshua, when it serves you no purpose at all,”

“That’s bull, Cas,” Dean denied, fiercely shaking his head, beginning to pace, “I’m not even… I’m not even _thinking_ about any of that—”

“Do you not hear yourself?” Cas asked then, rage ripping through his voice, staring back at Dean in incredulity.

“I do. And I hear _you_ , and I—”

“Dean. Your father, from what I have been told—from what _you_ have told me, was a man, so obsessed with seeking revenge for his dead wife, that he forgot to honor her legacy —by caring for the children he created with her. Your father, chose to teach you how to use weapons before he taught you how to interact with this world; because he forgot how to do that _himself_. Your father, made _you_ a father, by forcing adult responsibilities on to your shoulders, when what you _should_ have been learning, was how to be a _child_ ,”

Cas’ fury left Dean reeling, feeling it as present as a blast of a furnace against him that was so strong, he found himself fighting not to take a step back.

“Cas—”

“Dean. You are _angry_ about this case, because you see your own stolen childhood in Thomas’. You feel the hurt, the fear, the… the _fury_ that your father deserved to receive. But he is _gone_ Dean. And in dying —”

“He did kinda do that for me, you know—”

“In _dying_ ,” Cas repeated, with more anger, “he has denied you the chance to _tell_ him. To allow you to… to unleash, all of the hurt he has caused you. And he has left you this… this —”

“What?” Dean demanded, slapping his hands down by his sides and coming to stand in front of him. “Left me this _what_ , Cas, huh? Telling me I’m broken or something? ‘Cos I gotta tell you, if you didn’t already know that by now, then I got no idea what you’ve been looking at all these years,”

“You are not _broken_ , Dean,” Cas denied, a plea seeping into his voice, “but your father—”

“What do you want me to say, huh?” Dean yelled back. “I know it, okay? I already know I got given a raw deal when I was kid. So what? So _what_ , Cas? I’m still here—”

“But you are _hurting_ , Dean,” Cas protested, his face contorting between anger and sympathy, which Dean did not want to be receiving. “And your father—”

“Was a dick too, okay?” Dean laughed coldly. “I get it. Happy now? Think I didn’t already know—”

“I am _sorry_ , Dean,” Cas seethed, his shoulders visibly rising and falling under the strain of his fury, “I do not mean to speak so harshly about your father; I _know_ how important he is to you —”

“I get it, Cas, okay?” Dean tried to placate him, the truth of Cas’ words hardly a shock to him. “I just… it’s pointless, you know? I mean it’s… it’s done. In the past; you can’t— you can’t _change_ anything by getting mad about it —”

“Yet you _do_ ‘get mad’ about it. You are mad about it now,” Cas bit back, furious, “and you accept it as though you did not deserve a better _life_ ,”

“Yeah, well—”

“How can you be so dismissive of yourself? How can you—how can you not be _angry_ for the… for the child that you never had the opportunity to be, Dean?” Cas asked, his eyes flitting over Dean’s face as though he might see something there that would help understand him.

“I am angry,” Dean countered, shaking his head, “but you know what? I _do_ accept it,”

“ _Why_?”

“Because I can’t _change_ it, Cas. I can’t —I can’t change _anything —_”

“But you _can_ ,” Cas argued, his voice now breaking with emotion, “you _can_ , Dean—”

“How?” Dean threw back at him, his own anger unfurling and raging in his gut, “ _How_ , Cas? You gonna whip me up some kinda time machine so I can go relive it all again, stand up to the bastard this time? Go back, so I can take off, leave Sam with him, so _he_ can go through all of that crap instead, huh?”

“No, Dean—”

“‘Cos if you think for a second that I wouldn’t go through all of it again, ten times over, _for_ Sam?” Dean continued, stepping closer, his fists in tight balls down by his sides, “then you got no right to be saying any of this stuff to me. ‘Cos if you think that, then…” and Dean felt lost for words, let his arms raise then slap down heavily against his thighs in defeat, “Cos if you think that, it means that… that you don’t know me _at all_ , Cas,”

“Dean—” Cas tried, reaching out to grip him around the arm. Dean shrugged him off and turned away, heading for the door.

“I need out of this,” Dean spat out then, calling it over his shoulder, needing the space for fear of what he might do if he stayed. He heard Cas call his name a final time, and slammed the door on the way out.

* * *

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

“I did not mean to make you angry,”

Dean had known, even without looking, that when he heard the door creak open in the bar, it would be Cas coming in; though couldn’t bring himself to immediately lift his eyes from the table. Cas’ voice was gentle, full of contrition, and enough to have Dean torn between instant forgiveness—as well as asking for forgiveness—and locking himself up firmer behind his walls.

“I know,” he said anyway, because he did, he understood what Cas meant entirely. But as he’d told him already, it was pointless. How could he get angry about a life he couldn’t ever get back? Dean watched Cas shuffle uncertainly beside his table, and could only stand it for a few seconds before he had to look up.

“May I… may I sit?” Cas asked when he did, tilting his head towards the chair opposite; Dean waved a tired hand, sitting up a little so Cas would have space for his knees beneath the table. They avoided each other’s gaze for a good few minutes before Dean could bring himself to even think of anything to say at all.

Even though he’d stormed out in anger, even though he’d been unreasonable in shutting Cas out—and even though there was still a little anger there that Cas would _push_ him like he had, Dean couldn’t hide the relief he felt that Cas had sought him out, had known him enough to know even in this unfamiliar town, exactly where he would head. Even if his choice of places to run to was, now he thought about it, fairly obvious.

Dean took a moment to look around them, pay glancing attention to the tiny, dingy bar he’d stumbled across when stamping his way up the street, pausing briefly to notice the man hunched over the bar itself at the other end—that Dean didn’t think he’d seen move one inch the entire time he’d been there, then turned back to Cas. He took in the caution in his eyes, the care in his expression, and any lingering trace of that anger he’d felt trickled away, replaced entirely with double the amount of remorse.

“What’re… what’re you doing here, Cas?” Dean asked, soft, because already he was imagining having to return to the lodge to find himself another room, for Cas to take off and say this— _he_ was more than he could handle. He’d be right to, Dean thought to himself, slumping a little, but sitting straight back up again for the fear of knocking against Cas’ legs. He’d yelled away his rights for presumed physical contact of any kind.

“Did you think that I would not follow?”

“Wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t,”

“If you think that, by you… walking away from me like you did, that I would… give up on you. _This_ ,” he amended, with a quick wave of his hand between them, “then it appears that you are the one that is incorrect. That is it _you_ that does not know _me_ at all,”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean blurted out, unable to keep the fear from his voice.

Cas regarded him coolly back. “As am I,” he said, turning to look out the window and away from Dean altogether.

“Guess I—I don’t get why you’re so angry about this, Cas,” he said softly, pleading in his eyes as he looked across at Cas’ profile, willing him to turn around. “I mean, sure; I’ve been mad about it, plenty of times. Lost, I don’t know how many nights… days... thinking about it. But—”

“I am angry—I _was_ angry,” Cas answered after a long pause, turning his head and fixing Dean with a look that Dean held, no matter how much he wanted to wrench his eyes elsewhere, “I was angry because you are so… accepting of it —”

‘“Cos I can’t _change_ anything,” Dean retorted, failing to keep his voice from rising.

“But you _can —_”

“What? What can I change?”

“You can change, by changing how you _see_ yourself,” Cas answered, an adamant tone taking over his voice, and this time glaring back at him with indignant conviction in what he was saying. “You can change it by… _caring_ , about yourself. About _you_ , Dean—”

“Cas,” Dean cut him off in warning, backing it up with a look that told him to just _stop_. Cas sank back in his seat looking halfway between defeated and exasperated.

“Your life is about more than duty, Dean. It is about more than—”

“You’re one to talk about living a life just full of _duty_ ,” Dean bit back, daring him to disagree.

“That is correct,” Cas nodded, his fingers knotting together angrily against the table, “it is a fair argument, because I have spent _years —_ _a_ _ges_ , blindly following plan after plan, doing so because I believed it was what was _right_ , without questioning any of those decisions. Any of my own actions. But you, Dean, you have taught me, that I am _more_ than that,”

“Because you _are_ more than that, Cas,” Dean answered, watching his face morph through anger into sadness.

“Then why will you not allow me to teach you—to _show_ you, that _you_ are more than that?” Cas asked gently, and sounding heartbroken for his words. Dean swallowed hard a couple of times, feeling like he was choking on so many things Cas could be implying.

“Cas,” Dean said, quieter this time, “I don’t know what you’re telling me. I don’t… I don’t know what you’re asking me to do here,”

Cas slid his hands across the table and grasped Dean’s, running a gentle thumb over his still-reddened knuckles then squeezing lightly. “Only that you forgive yourself. Only that you allow yourself to realize that your childhood, and Sam’s childhood, were out of your control. And that you did your _best_ by him, Dean. By you both,”

“But—”

“This case,” Cas continued, squeezing his fingers, “I feel as though your… empathy for Thomas, your… hatred of Joshua—”

“He’s a bastard,” Dean protested as he had earlier, sighing as Cas nodded.

“He is,” Cas agreed, “but anger at him, this… fury that you are feeling, will not bring back your father. Will not allow you to confront the man for… all that he did to you. No amount of anger, and… goading, _fighting_ , will do that. You are stronger, better than any of that, and I… I do not want to watch you suffer as you are doing. I _won’t_ watch,”

“Meaning?” Dean stammered out, immediately terrified that this was it, that he’d already pushed Cas too far, by showing the ugliness of his temper.

“Meaning,” Cas sighed, standing and guiding Dean to his feet, immediately wrapping his arms around his waist, “that I will not allow you to destroy yourself like this, or by any means. I am going to teach you that you are _worthy_ , whether you allow me to or not,”

“And how are you going to do that?” Dean asked, hesitating before pulling Cas to him and dropping his forehead down on to Cas’ shoulder, gathering him closer and mumbling _sorry_ there repeatedly.

“I believe I found an effective method of _shutting you up_ in the park,” Cas said, gently pushing Dean back from him and smiling when he lifted his head. Dean swallowed back the lump in his throat and let his eyes drift down to Cas’ lips, then sank against him as Cas leaned in for a kiss.

“You sure you wanna even be around me when I’m like this, Cas?” Dean asked once they’d pulled apart, Cas’ hands coming to rest on his sides. In another place, maybe as another, younger version of himself, Dean would have pulled away from this; their standing together in the middle of this bar and holding each other up, not caring who was around to see it. But right then, the only thing Dean could bring himself to do was cling on tighter still, fearful that Cas might still walk away from him. Even if he did think he deserved that to happen.

“Dean—”

“I mean it,” Dean insisted, ducking in for another quick kiss then pulling back with a sigh of contrition, “I’m... _like_ this. You _know_ I am. I fly off the handle. Let my temper get the better of me and—”

“Care too much,” Cas finished for him decisively, squeezing him once then pulling back and nodding for them to sit down again.

“I don’t know about _too_ much —”

“Dean,” Cas said, warning in his tone, “I have no plans to go anywhere. I have no desire to not be here. I _want_ to be here —with you. However you are. However much you convince yourself, or find reasons for your lack of worth—”

“I didn’t—”

“You are _worth_ something,” Cas continued, forcibly, silencing him with a look, “you are worth much. To the people you save, and help. To those who care about you —your family; Sam, Jody, Claire—”

“I—”

“And me, Dean,” Cas added, not allowing him to interrupt, “we all care about you. We all _love_ you. You are… you are worth something to us. And, collectively, if we have to, because my words alone are not enough; you _will_ be convinced of that. You will, Dean. However long it may take us to convince you. However much you attempt to… joke your way out of it,”

Dean closed his eyes, felt tears sting in the corners of his eyes, and his jaw tremble, and again fought back that lump in his throat. Cas’ hands reached across the table again and squeezed over his fists, and Dean quickly unfurled his fingers to snag Cas’, squeezing them there.

“I’m still… mad at this… the case. Joshua—”

“As am I,” Cas said, squeezing Dean’s hands once more then sliding them back, fingertips lingering over his knuckles as they drew away. Dean looked up to see the glare behind his eyes that backed up his words.

“We will deal with him,” Cas promised, with quiet fury that anyone else would wither away from. Dean though, felt proud, and a stirring in his gut that he told himself not to be feeling, for its poor timing. “And in the meantime…”

“What?” Dean asked, desperate to know what Cas was thinking.

Cas reached out for the tumbler to Dean’s side and raised it to his lips to take a sip, then frowned hard at the taste. “Firstly, you are going to _eat_ something. How many of these have you had?”

“... three?”

“Dean,” Cas said, scowling and demanding he be truthful.

“...this is my fourth,” Dean admitted, watching Cas’ eyes deliberately fall to just how little was left in the glass, and that quiet fury flared in his eyes once more.

“You cannot keep _doing_ this to yourself,” Cas insisted, reaching out again and draining the glass himself.

“I—”

“What do you want to eat?” Cas demanded, soft, but firmly, already reaching out for the menu and studying it.

“I—”

“If you do not decide, then I will decide for you,” Cas told him firmer still, raising his eyes to glare once more.

“...saw a guy walk by with nachos earlier. Looked good,” Dean relented after hesitating for a moment.

Cas nodded and rose without another word, though before moving to the bar to order, bent down over Dean and kissed him again, dropping their foreheads together with a huff for a second, then turning away. Dean listened to him ordering in a quiet, confident rumble, and told himself firmly he was not going to screw this up.

“Tell me something,” Cas asked when he returned, his words a gentle demand that Dean resisted at first, then realized from Cas’ expression that he wasn’t going to let go.

“Anything in particular?”

“Something you haven’t told me before. About yourself,”

Dean struggled to find a subject that could be neutral, or he could work around to not being about him, or he could get away with turning into a joke. But out of nowhere, he felt tired of it; of all the pretending nothing ever got to him, of hiding behind a mask so no one knew what he was feeling—everything. It was pointless anyway, since for as long as he’d known Cas, Cas had seen straight through all of that. Dean sagged down further in his seat with a heavy sigh, allowing his knees to jostle either side of Cas’.

“I… I drink,” he said, after a long, long pause, surprising himself that _that_ was the first thing to fall out of his mouth, “‘cos it’s easier to be a little numb to everything that’s… that’s sometimes going on around me, than it is to have to deal with it cold,”

Cas nodded, but said nothing. Dean shifted in discomfort and forced himself to find some more words.

“I… my dad, he… he did the same. He’d… lose himself in a bottle of something, and he always seemed… I don’t know. Calmer for it. In control. Not... lashing out, or angry, or anything. Could still fight though,” Dean huffed, remembering seeing him do it and watching with a confused sense of awe and fear. “I guess I thought I could… I could be the same, you know? Just as tough, just as… I don’t know. Drinking’s just… it’s just been something that’s always been in my life,”

“Do you feel as though it is out of control?” Cas asked, his tone devoid of anything that Dean could latch on to, to understand his thoughts.

“Not… no,” Dean settled on saying, feeling he was being honest with himself, “I mean, I know I drink too much. I know I… drink to forget stuff. Block stuff out. Like… all the stuff that comes with hunting. Not… talking about stuff when it gets to me. Losing people. _Missing_ people —”

Dean chanced a look at Cas then, and saw a ripple of guilt cross his face. Dean couldn’t handle it, so awkwardly leaned across the table and kissed him for it. Cas’ expression when he pulled back was a little shocked, a little pleased, and even a little amused.

“It’s… it’s not like I don’t think I can stop though. ‘Cos we’ve had moments, and I mean, _moments_ , when things’ve been… I don’t know,” Dean shrugged, “quiet, and stuff, and I’ve not touched a drop. Not even thought about it, not even wanted anything, ‘sides beer, but that’s not… that’s not really the same. More like a… force of habit, or something, so…”

Their food was delivered then, and a couple of minutes followed in silence as they settled the plate between them and reached for napkins, with Dean taking one look at the gooey mess of cheese and sauces, and hoping he didn’t make a fool of himself by ending up wearing it.

“I don’t… entirely agree about beer being… _different_ ,” Cas said, carefully eyeing a scoop of nachos as he raised them to his mouth.

“I know,” Dean nodded, “I hear you. I just… it doesn’t seem… it doesn’t seem as _bad_ , you know?”

Cas observed him in silence, chewing thoughtfully and pushing the coffee he’d ordered across the table, eyes down on the mug until Dean raised it to drink.

“I’ll… I’ll try and… deal with that. Change that,”

“If you choose to change anything about yourself, you will do so, for _you._  Not for me. Not because you think it is what I want,” Cas countered, and Dean’s heart gave a little thud for it that he didn’t know what to do with. For a moment all he could do was stare back, then distracted himself by shoving too much food into his mouth.

“It’s not the only thing I do when I’m feeling kinda out of my depth,” Dean added when he could speak again, steeling himself for the discomfort his words might bring, though struck with the need for total honesty. Cas nodded for him to keep speaking, and Dean sucked in a sharp breath before he could. “There’s been… I don’t know how many times that I’ve… with people, I’ve… hooked up with people just to… forget about whatever’s happening. Blow off some steam. I can’t… I won’t even pretend I’ve not done it just for the hell of it either, when I’ve felt like it,”

Dean snuck another look at Cas, who nodded for him to continue again, and forced himself to keep talking.  

“I mean, it’s been a while—a _long_ while since I’ve wanted to do _that_ with… with anyone else… with —well, honestly,” he huffed to himself, “with anyone that’s not _you_ ,”

Cas’ smile for him was warm, and triumphant, even, Dean thought, echoing that smile back, and Cas reached out to squeeze his hand, urging him to go on.

But… it don’t mean it’s not, uh… it’s not _happened_ ,” Dean added, sending a quick, guilty look elsewhere, despite knowing it was pointless—needless to feel guilty, “I mean, no time recently; gotta be months now, but...”

Dean’s words trailed away from him then, leaving him unable to look for fearing Cas’ reaction. He felt Cas staring at his head where it had dropped, and slowly raised it to look back at him.

“You did tell me once that you were, uh… _well-fed_ , for... things like that,” Cas said, and Dean hated that he still couldn’t understand his tone.

“Cas—”

“Dean,” Cas said, low, and with an edge to it, “that we are… that we have chosen to be… _together_ now. That we have… that we have decided that; at least, I assume that is what we have decided —”

“We have,” Dean rushed to reassure him, taking in the slight doubt that put a frown on his face, and reaching out and grabbing his hand to squeeze it, “you and me, Cas. That’s all I want; you and me,”

Cas looked down at their hands and covered them with his free one for a second, then drew it away again and smiled. “That is also what I want. But this… this is _new_ to us; what I am attempting, perhaps terribly, to say, is that… that you _drink_ , and that you… have sex when you want it—and need it for distraction, this is not… I am already aware of both of these things. As I am already aware that you resort to anger when you are hurting. But whatever has happened before—before _us_ , is of no consequence,”

Dean offered up a tentative smile, which Cas huffed at but returned, taking a sip of his coffee.

“That does not mean that I do not feel some… residual jealously,” Cas added, frowning down at the plate in front of him, though Dean could tell it was at himself.

“Got nothing to be jealous of; I promise,” Dean assured him, reaching out yet again to snag his fingers through Cas’.

“This does not detract from the fact that you were talking about _you,_ ” Cas told him, pointedly, and arching an eyebrow to emphasize that point.

Dean laughed to himself and nodded, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy to get off the hook. “Fine,”

“Though if you are truly uncomfortable,” Cas continued, back to that expressionless stare, “then you should not… force yourself. Not for me, or… anyone. Unless you want to, that is,”

Dean nodded, knowing a get-out when he saw one, and adamantly chose not to take it.

“You know, right after Mom died, I couldn’t… I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t… speak, I couldn’t say a single word. They just got… stuck in my throat. And then it got to that… that I didn’t _want_ to talk; I mean, I don’t remember everything about it,” Dean shrugged, "it was… _years_ ago. But I do remember thinking, if I just stopped talking, then maybe I’d… maybe I’d wake up and… and none of any of it would’ve happened,”

Cas reached across and slotted their fingers together, but said nothing.

“I remember looking down at Sam in my arms outside that fire and thinking this… wriggling _thing_ in my arms, my little brother, was gonna… was gonna _need_ someone, you know? That the whole idea that I was gonna have to do more than just... teach him how to build stuff with Lego, and… and how important it was to do stuff that made Mom smile when Dad was... gone, or angry, was… it was so _big_. I didn’t… I mean I already loved him like… like any brother should, but right _then_ , it felt… it felt like I might have to be his whole world, ‘least for a little while, ‘till my Dad came round. ‘Cos I guess, I mean… I couldn’t know it,” Dean added, swallowing with difficulty, “but the way he just… that look in his eye when… when he handed Sam to me and told me to look after him, I… I guess I just _knew_ things were gonna be different from then on. _He_ was gonna be different.

“And I can’t… it’s kind of a blur, you know? I… I don’t remember the first time I… I mean, I don’t know, exactly, how old I was when… when Dad, told me, about the supernatural and all that. I don’t think he even ever really sat down and told me, I just… it was just _there_ , you know? And it was just… it was my _life_ ; I didn’t… I didn’t know any other way. I mean, sure,” Dean huffed to himself, “pretty obvious we weren’t like other kids. Didn’t see other kids living out the back of a car, or… checking phone boxes, and vending machines, and… and laundromats, for any quarters people might’ve forgotten to take,”

Dean closed his eyes for a second, but worked his way through it, nodding to himself.

“I guess, the first time? That I really understood that we really _were_ different,” Dean said, a wistful smile turning up the corners of his lips, “I remember it was… recess, or lunch or something. I didn’t have anything with me to eat, and I couldn’t go outside, ‘cos I was in trouble for… I don’t even remember, now. So I was just staring out at the other kids playing outside, tryna… trick myself into thinking I wasn’t hungry. Dad was… wherever he was, and, we’d run out of money, barely anything left to eat. I had a choice between eating lunch or eating dinner, or Sam missing out so… no lunch.

“Anyway; saw this group of kids, right outside my window, playing cops and robbers or something. And they were playing like they had guns. And, clear as anything, I remember thinking,” Dean laughed, shaking his head to himself, “that everything they were saying and doing? Like… how they cocked their guns, aimed them, acted like they were reloading them and all that? They got it _all_ wrong, like, completely wrong.

“And I figured… I mean, it _hit_ me then, pretty hard, that maybe… maybe _that’s_ the way things were s’ppsed to be, you know? That kids _should_ be getting all that kinda stuff wrong, ‘cos we _were_ kids, you know? That we shouldn’t… that maybe _I_ shouldn’t know all of this _stuff_ so well, that I could tell when some imaginary gun wasn’t being loaded right,”

Cas squeezed his hand, and Dean dared to look up, receiving a sympathetic, encouraging smile.

“It wasn’t all bad either,” Dean said then, feeling like he had to, “I mean. What kid can say they’ve been to practically every state ‘fore the age of 18, huh? And missing school, it… you know how that’s gonna sound to any kid that hates school,”

“Education is important,”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed, “it is. ‘Ts why I did everything I could to keep Sam going, I just… I… maybe it was a compromise. I kept… doing what I was doing. Hunting with Dad, didn’t fight him on it too much, and he’d just… leave Sam to… get on with learning, and stuff,”

“You sacrificed so much for Sam,” Cas said sadly, his shoulders falling with the weight of the sigh he let out.

“Yeah,” Dean huffed, “and look where it got him? He’s—”

“Sam is probably the first person who would tell you that you are wrong if you blame yourself for him hunting. Or for anything,” Cas argued immediately, staring Dean down until he relented with a tight nod back.

“Yeah, well,” he sighed, “don’t mean I’m not gonna hate myself for it sometimes,”

Cas squeezed his hand again, seeming to know exactly the right time not to argue with him on that, instead to just offer _support_ , and Dean felt oddly grounded by it.

“I did… hate it, though. So much of the time. I mean, I kept it from Dad; I kept all kindsa crap from Dad,” Dean said, laughing to himself, imagining John’s reaction to him being sat across a booth holding hands with an _angel_ , and shook his head. “And I thought about… I don’t know. Calling him out on it—what he’d done to us, dragging us around and all that, but… I just couldn’t, you know? ‘Cos after everything, he was… he was my _dad_ ,”

Dean felt himself begin to tear up again and wanted to be furious at himself for it, yet all he felt was sad, and drained by it all.

“You are a good, kind man, Dean. You have a good heart, you live your life helping other people, and you take so little in return,” Cas smiled, stroking his thumb over the back of Dean’s hand, “which means, that there was _something_... positive, about your... upbringing. It has… made you the person that you are,”

“I don’t know about that,” Dean huffed, shaking his head.

“I do,” Cas insisted, smiling back at him.

“You might be biased,” Dean suggested, though felt his heart surge for being able to accuse someone of being that about _him_.

“I am,” Cas agreed, “though I am also right,” and for a moment they stared back at each other, then in silent agreement worked their way through the remainder of their shared plate of nachos without saying another word.

“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t plan on getting so… caught up on this case. Joshua, and all that,” Dean sighed then, pushing the plate to one side and offering out both his hands once he’d swiped them clean as thoroughly as he could with napkins.

“I know,”

“I didn’t even… I didn’t wanna see how much’ve... how much Thomas’ life might’ve been like mine and Sam’s in places. I mean it wasn’t… it was completely different in so many ways, and… I didn’t mean to get sucked into it all,” Dean said, sighing to himself, though feeling a flare of that residual anger for Joshua like it was reminding him it was still there.

“I know,” Cas said again, smiling at him, but didn’t say anything else. In fact, he just kept on smiling at him; Dean felt his own lips curve up again and could do little else but smile back.

“So. What now, Cas?” Dean asked after a while, sitting back in his seat and stretching a little. Cas stood fluidly, tugging him to his feet and pausing only long enough for Dean to leave some cash on the table, then pulled him towards the door.

“Now, we are going to return to our room,” Cas said, holding the door open for him and following him out, giving him a heated look as he passed.

“Yeah, well, no offense, Cas, but,” Dean started, steeling himself and leaning in for a brief kiss, then pulling back to gauge his reaction, “but I’m kinda… the last thing I wanna do right now is… is what I’d… what I’d probably normally wanna do,”

“And what’s that?” Cas asked, squeezing his hand as they walked.

“Have some kinda… angry sex to… get it—get all of this out of my system or something?” Dean huffed to himself and turning his embarrassed gaze down the street. “Like… like I’dve done in—”

Cas stopped his words by pulling Dean into his arms and kissing him soft, but firmly, and Dean resisted for all of a second, before wrapping himself around Cas and sinking into him. The anger that remained coiled in his gut finally lost its grip on Dean, replaced with the feel of Cas’ mouth against his, his hands wide and warm gripping around his back, then bunching into his jacket to pull him closer. And Dean didn’t care that they were stood in the middle of the street blocking the sidewalk, didn’t notice the grumble of a couple having to walk in the road to pass, wasn’t aware of anything, besides holding on to, and being, with Cas.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Cas’ neck again, squeezing him tight.

“We should return to our room,” Cas insisted, his hands gripping around Dean’s waist and pushing back so he could look at him.

“I meant it, Cas,” Dean said, biting down on his lip and forcing himself to look, “I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be _that_ version of me that’d… that’d work out my anger by-”

“We are going to return to our room,” Cas repeated, raising an eyebrow, and not able to hide his smile, “I will message Sam, inform him that we will see him later this evening, and then you and I will rest. If you wish to, Dean, we will also continue to _talk_. About this case. About _you_. About… anything you want to. Or nothing at all,”

Dean bit down on his lip again for a second, then cupped Cas’ face and pulled him in, closing his eyes in relief at the feel of Cas smiling against his mouth.

* * *

“‘Time is it?”

Dean felt Cas stir and roll away from him, assuming that the vibrating phone was what had woken him as well, and reached out to pull him back.

“After eight,”

“That Sam?” Dean asked, stilling his hand on Cas’ stomach and glancing up to see him type a response, then push the phone back on to the side.

“Yes. He says he is getting hungry and asks if we will join him,”

“And you said?”

“That I would wait until I knew you were awake,”

Dean hummed at that, pitching himself forward to drape over Cas and settle against him, nosing his way into his neck and smiling a kiss there at Cas’ arms lifting to wrap around his back. “Could eat here,”

“We could,” Cas agreed, pulling up the back of Dean’s shirt and splaying his fingers over his exposed skin, “though I believe Sam wishes to talk to us about his… conversation with Joshua,”

Dean groaned and nuzzled closer to him, pressing as tight as possible, wanting to shut the idea out, though too tired to feel anything more than a flicker of anger at Joshua. When they’d returned to their room, they’d fallen straight to their bed, curled into and facing one another, and Dean had started blurting out things he never thought he’d say outside his own head. About his dad, about growing up, about times when he’d thought he’d lose Sam altogether because he just couldn’t do _enough_.

That conversation they’d started in the bar acted as a catalyst, and once he’d started talking, Dean found it almost impossible to get himself to stop. It was exhausting, and though he recognized he felt better for it, Dean was _raw_ from it; his throat was scratchy and his eyes sore, his chest felt fluttery, with so much less of his usual burden carried there, as though it was unsure of what to feel in that extra space.

It wasn’t possible that Cas could know how much it meant to him to be able to open up like he had. He couldn’t know the terror Dean felt that once he’d finally let out those words, Cas would turn away from him, reject the parts of Dean that he was so desperate to reveal but never could. Because once those things were out, all his secret doubts, frustrations, and fears, there were other things clamoring for attention, that were hidden underneath those secrets. Secret hopes, wants, dreams he’d never allowed himself to imagine he’d get to have any part of.

Cas made him feel like he could.

“Or, we could just stay here,” Dean mouthed into his neck, sliding a leg over then rolling on top of him, purposely stirring his hips over Cas’ and smiling at his answering hum. “We could even work ourselves up an appetite—”

“You said that you did not want to indulge in, _angry sex_ ,” Cas retorted, though slipping his hands into Dean’s jean pockets as he said it, arching up beneath him in a languid roll.

“Yeah, I did,” Dean agreed, bracing himself on his forearms and leaning in for a kiss, “but I’m not angry now, see?”

“I do,” Cas said, smiling against Dean’s lips then smiling harder for the groan punching out of him for the rhythm they were writhing out between them. “But Sam will—”

Dean swallowed his words with a harder kiss, and circled his hips more insistently, and soon no words were possible for the gasps and groans slipping out of their mouths. The feel of Cas hard beneath him and the sight of the blue shirt he loved Cas wearing most, unbuttoned under his own fingers, with his hands sliding to the smoothness of his chest underneath, meant nothing needed to be said between them anyway.

“I need to _show_ you,” Dean managed to punch out, but couldn’t finish what he was trying to say, for the _urgency_ he felt for Cas. Cas yanked fistfuls of Dean’s shirt up so their stomachs pressed together and moaned the second they touched, slotting his hands back into Dean’s pockets and grinding up harder still.

And just as Dean was sneaking his hand down between them again, to begin working Cas’ jeans button open, a rapid knock on the door had him falling forward on to Cas with a groan of complaint, with an answering huff of expelled air blasting from Cas. Dean groaned again, shifting to press his forehead against Cas’ sternum, then sitting up, still straddling Cas’ lap and winking down at him as he gave another stir.

“You guys done in there, or—”

“Alright, alright, we’re coming,” Dean complained, scowling at the door for whatever Sam mumbled back but they couldn’t hear.

“Perhaps he is hungry,” Cas suggested, following Dean as he kneeled his way off the bed, then grabbing his face to drag him back for another kiss, releasing him reluctantly seconds after.

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean agreed, stopping Cas from what appeared to be his search around the floor for his shoes, by pulling him closer again and claiming his mouth.

“Guys…”

Dean sighed against Cas’ lips, earning him a quiet laugh, then relented and stepped back, bending to the bed to tug on his boots, watching Cas as he rebuttoned his shirt, and looking forward to helping him back out of it when they returned.

They checked each other over, straightening a collar edge here and smoothing away a crease there, then smiled, nodding in agreement that they were ready to leave. But before Cas could reach for the door handle, Dean crowded him back against it, kissed him as gently as he could make himself, then wrapped him up in his arms, whispering _thank you_ repeatedly into his neck until Sam called to them once again.

* * *

“So what’d the bastard have to say for himself?”

Dean sent a quick smile in Cas’ direction for the squeeze he received around his thigh, then turned expectantly to Sam waiting for his answer.

“Thinks you’re a piece of work,” Sam snorted with an amused smile, quietly thanking their server as they brought their drinks to the table.

“Yeah, well, no getting around that one,” Dean shrugged, reaching out and knocking his beer against Cas’.

“I might’ve offered to break his nose to go with that… awesome bruise lighting up his jaw like Christmas currently, if he didn’t shut up about it,” Sam shrugged back, smiling over the mouth of his bottle. Dean grinned back at him and heard Cas laugh quietly beside him.

“So?”

“I mean,” Sam breathed out hard, looking as though he was thinking where to start, “I guess… anyone who’s lost someone they care about might… I don’t know…”

“Drag their kid across the country ‘stead of dealing with stuff?” Dean suggested, giving him an ironic look back, and received another squeeze against his leg beneath the table. Dean reached out to cover Cas’ hand and slotted his fingers down between his.

“Yeah,” Sam answered with a pinched smile, “I guess. Anyway, I mean, he’s remorseful about it. Regrets it all, apparently,”

“Even about the part where he got his own kid killed?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “even that. Especially that. Took him a while, but. He finally kinda… broke down a little over it,”

“What a guy,” Dean snorted, full of sarcasm, taking a pull of his beer and trying to force his anger back down.

“Anyway,” Sam said, sending a glance in Cas’ direction; Dean narrowed his eyes at the gesture, planning on reining in any efforts of the two of them ganging up on him just because things had _changed_ between them. As though realizing Dean had caught him doing it, Sam had the grace to look chastised, then took a swig of his beer and clunked it back down against the table. “He’s willing to come with. See if… I don’t know, him being there at the carnival might… help, or something,”

“It is kind of a long shot,” Dean sighed, knowing how much of an understatement that was.

“We must do _something_ ,” Cas urged beside him, pulling back abruptly as a passing waiter seemed to realize just how close he and Dean were sitting, and pulled the spare chair from their four-person table without comment. Dean automatically shuffled closer, and Cas shifted again, looking down at the gap between them then squeezing Dean’s thigh briefly, before straightening up again, and rolling his shoulders with a soft huff.

“You okay?” Dean urged softly, reaching out to snag Cas’ fingers once again.

“Yes,” Cas smiled, “though these chairs are not comfortable,”

“We’ll be horizontal again before you know it,” Dean joked, winking for Cas, then turning to glare at Sam for his splutter of protest from across the table. “You were saying?”

“Uh…” Sam stuttered, a startled look between them as he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Like I said; he’s... willing, to go back there with us,”

“Not like we can send him there by himself, is it?” Dean sighed, thinking of the long, long drive back, and how much he didn’t want it.

“I’ve a suggestion,” Sam said, darting his eyes away when Dean looked over at him.

“Out with it,” Dean nodded, waving his bottle for Sam to know to keep talking.

“See I was thinking. Seems pointless all three of us going all the way back down there. I mean, we don’t even know what to expect, but if it’s just a case of Joshua showing up that stops Thomas doing… whatever it is he’s doing, and lets him, uh, _leave_ , then… we don’t all need to be there for that,”

“True,” Dean nodded, thinking it over, “but you’d need to take… I don’t know. Supplies and stuff,”

“So I take an extra bag from the trunk,” Sam shrugged easily, obviously not seeing a problem.

“We need to know about the girls,” Cas urged, shaking his head, “we need to know what is happening with—”

“Cas,” Dean said, reaching out and squeezing his hand again, “you’ve been checking every day. _We’ve_ been checking every day; there’s not much we can do for them either there or, well, anywhere, ‘sides keep checking up on ‘em. We can do that, from anywhere —”

“Are you saying you don’t want to go back?” Cas asked, his tone more curious than accusatory, Dean thought.

“I’m saying, I _will_ go back, if that’s what we decided —we _all_ decide,” Dean added, waving his hand between the three of them.

“I just don’t think it makes any sense for us all to go,” Sam shrugged, taking a pull on his beer, “it’s like… if I go down there with Joshua, you two can either… stay here ‘till I get back, or head on back to the bunker, and I’ll make my way there when I’m done,”

“I would still like to know that the case is… resolved,” Cas said, though his voice was doubtful, and Dean could see the indecision on his face.

“We’re gonna know it’s resolved if I’m there, aren’t we?” Sam smiled. “Plus, it’s like a... sixteen hour drive each way. You really wanna be cramped up in a car for that long, Cas?”

Dean winced at Sam’s well-meant question, fearing Cas would assume he’d said something to Sam about the pain he’d been in.

“I am suffering… aching, from time to time. If I keep in the same position over an extended period,” Cas confessed, his voice small, and guarded. Dean squeezed his fingers again, circling his thumb over the back of his hand.

“Like being stuck in the car for all that long?” Sam suggested knowingly, smiling again.

“...yes,”

“See? Makes sense if you—”

“Though I am still willing to deal with that if it means resolving this case,” Cas added, a little more firmly.

Dean first looked to Sam, then to Cas, telling himself his own reluctance for going back was to do with the wasted time driving, and any discomfort Cas might feel; nothing to do with the selfish voice in the back of his head coaxing him with thoughts and images of having a couple of days alone with Cas.

“It would save on gas,” Sam pointed out, sitting back a little as the server returned with their food, “and Dean won’t be tired out by driving all that way,”

Cas turned a shrewd eye on Dean and considered him for a moment; Dean felt Sam’s triumphant grin without even looking for it, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

“I don’t care either way,” Dean said, raising his hands in defense, then picking up his cutlery, looking down at his dinner and realizing just how hungry he was. “I’m happy to go, happy to stay, happy with whatever. You decide; I’m just gonna eat,”

* * *

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Dean woke first in the morning, stirring to the feel of Cas pressed up snug behind him, and his fingers splayed out over his stomach; possessively, he decided with a smile. Dean squeezed Cas’ fingers briefly before gently lifting his wrist to free himself, slipping out of the bed as quietly as possible to use the bathroom.

They’d gone to bed naked, having returned from dinner with Sam to spend a long, long time in the shower, falling asleep almost immediately after an incredibly long day. So when he turned back into the bedroom to find Cas had rolled over on to his back in his absence, Dean’s breath caught in his throat for the view laid out in front of him, not able to decide what to look at first.

“Why are you standing there?” Cas grumbled out after a minute of Dean just staring from the foot of the bed, his voice scratchy and sounding still half-asleep, and his head raising for a brief second to look up at him, before falling back down.

“Admiring the view,” Dean answered, reaching out to squeeze around his ankle, then coming around to his side of the bed and crawling back beside him. Cas mumbled something in answer, but Dean didn’t catch it, nor did he need to, sitting back a little to just _look_ , still drinking the sight of him in.

“Look at you,” Dean said, unable to keep the sense of awe from his voice, and not leaving Cas in any doubt about what he was meaning, as his eyes swept in a lingering gaze all the way up him. Cas smiled anyway, opening his eyes properly, though masking an expression of innocence.

“What?”

“ _You_ ,” Dean insisted, rolling over to nudge his knee between Cas’ and groaning softly at the way he immediately spread them open in invitation. Dean crawled over his leg, gripping the back of Cas’ thighs to raise then settle down between them, humming a kiss to his mouth, trailing his fingertips up Cas’ sides, and smiling at the way he shivered in answer.

Forcing himself up on to his forearms, Dean spread his own knees for balance and pushed them under Cas’ thighs to splay them wider, then shifted to brace his palms against the bed, and began mouthing a path along his jaw, and down his neck. Cas’ fingers brushed over his shoulders in encouragement as Dean ducked down, curling himself over to kiss and nuzzle along his collarbone, to tease his nipples rigid then brush his stubbled jaw over them, smiling at Cas’ intake of breath.  

“Fuck,” Dean mumbled, pressing it into the dip between Cas’ ribs and trailing kisses downwards, telling himself to wait, but unable to resist flicking his tongue out over Cas’ cock, curved up and drooping over his stomach. Cas whimpered, and Dean smiled as he jolted against his lips, moving his hands to rest them in a light grip at Cas’ waist, lapping up the length of him the entire time. Cas squirmed beneath him, and Dean pressed down with his elbows to keep him in place, mouthing his way up Cas’ shaft then teasing his tongue in a swirl over his head, darting along his slit.

At Cas’ urgent calling of his name, Dean shifted to get more comfortable, pausing to bite at his stomach as he settled, then returning to teasing him with kitten licks over his head. He looked up, taking in Cas’ eyes blown with lust and the way his mouth gaped open a little, and winked, brushing his lips over his tip again before clamping them around his head and repeatedly darting out his tongue.

The breath sounded punched from Cas’ lungs as Dean opened his mouth to him, closing his eyes at Cas’ cock sliding along his tongue and nudging deeper into his mouth, and humming at the taste of him. Cas arched beneath him as Dean gave a half-swallow, then dragged his lips along his length until they were catching on his head, and sliding back down.

Dean smiled as best as he could with his mouth full, looking up at Cas as he continued to bob up and down his length, his gut flooding with arousal as he sucked Cas into his mouth and he answered with a desperate _oh_ , that went straight to his own cock. He dropped his hands to the bed and held still as Cas’ hips flared up, pushing his cock deeper into Dean’s mouth for a few slides until Cas called out even more desperately, cupping the back of his head for one longer thrust, then pleading with him to stop.

“What?” Dean teased, sliding his way back up Cas’ chest and letting out a moan as his cock dragged along Cas’.

“You,” Cas growled, claiming his mouth in a brutal kiss before flipping them over, adjusting himself between Dean’s legs and rolling down, sliding their cocks together.

“Me, what?” Dean managed to blast back at him, but could say nothing else for the way Cas worked his hand down between their stomachs to grip them, growling into his neck at the same time and biting down. Dean wedged his own fingers in the gap between Cas’ and thrust up into their joint hands, the two of them working out a rhythm punctuated with biting kisses and whimpered out moans.

With the backdrop of their slightly squeaking bed beneath them, and all the sounds punched out of their mouths, they writhed frantically together, chasing release. Cas, Dean thought, taking in the determined set of his jaw yet the blissed out look of his overall expression, before dropping his head back against the pillow as another wave of pleasure curled through him, Cas could have no idea just how good he felt, how badly he’d wanted him like this, and in about a thousand other ways as well. Cas’ words nipped and sucked into his then-exposed neck said otherwise though, echoing his own thoughts.

Another hard writhe and Dean was coming, groaning it out of his gut and grinding against Cas, his stomach jolting as Cas shifted to look down between them and watch as he spilled over their hands and his stomach. Cas growled his name a final time before stiffening, and Dean watched as he splattered a thick stripe over their knuckles, then let out an _oof_ for the weight of Cas dropping down in a tired huff against his chest.

“You wear yourself out there?” Dean laughed, sliding his free hand over Cas’ back before wrapping his arm around him in a tight squeeze.

“You helped,” Cas mumbled into his neck, adjusting his knees a little then huffing to himself again.

“Yeah, well, couldn’t help myself,” Dean smiling, kissing it into the back of Cas’ hair and sure he could feel Cas smiling into his neck.

“This is a very… pleasant, way to wake up,”

“Pleasant, huh?” Dean laughed, smiling for Cas when he raised his head enough to look at him.

“Yes,” Cas nodded, bending down to kiss him.

* * *

Dean made it through another shower with Cas, breakfast between the three of them, and several disdainful glares and stiff nods in Joshua’s direction as he helped Sam load his things into Joshua’s car, before his mind caught up with the fact that he was leaving Sam to go off and finish the case alone.

True, Dean thought, shifting uncomfortably on the spot as he watched Sam run up the flight of stairs to Joshua’s porch, it was technically Sam that was leaving. And even more true, he had not a single doubt in his mind that Sam could handle whatever was needed to get the situation resolved. But the instinct that had been instilled in him since that first time Sam had been shoved in his arms as a baby, to protect him no matter what, still flared through him in a confused, guilty twist that left Dean doubting himself, then cursing himself for that doubt.

He stood, watching as Sam and Joshua spoke, took in the confident, unassuming way Sam gestured as he did, and Joshua’s subdued responses, and felt sure again that Sam could handle the case alone. But then Sam laughed, said something that even had Joshua forming a confused smile, then bounded back down the steps and headed towards him, and Dean would swear that the guy walking towards him was his kid brother, barely old enough to be considered a teen.

“How ‘bout we get you some food and stuff for the road?” Dean suggested, the moment Sam came to a stop in front of him.

“Was just gonna head to that store next to the lodge,” Sam agreed, gesturing for Dean to walk with him.

“You’re, uh… you’re gonna be okay. Right?”

Sam’s smile for him was that tolerant kind of amused smile he gave Dean when he was doing his best not to accuse him of being overprotective. “Not like it’s my first ghost,”

“No,” Dean admitted, thinking of the countless times they’d dealt with ghosts in the past, “not even the first one you’ve done on your own,”

“I used to keep count,” Sam admitted, smiling to himself, “when we first started hunting. After Stanford, I mean,”

“I tried keeping track of it all, back when… well,” Dean laughed, shaking his head, “when I first started. I had this notebook. Exercise book I stole out of class one time, and.... I don’t know. Made notes on it all. Tried to draw a little. Not anything like Dad’s, but—”

“What happened to it?”

“Lost it. Gave up on it; I don’t know,” Dean answered with a shrug, holding the door open for him and following Sam through into the store, “just… I guess when it’s all you do, all the time—”

“It all kinda bleeds into one?” Sam finished for him, nodding towards the back of the store.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “I mean, a lot of it just _sticks_ and... You don’t need to write it down to remember it,”

“But you start out, and there’s three ghosts, five vamp nests, eight separate _I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-this-thing-is_ things and then —”

“It all bleeds into one,” Dean smiled, reaching out for a bag of chips and gesturing to see if Sam wanted it.

“Exactly,” Sam said, taking the bag from his fingers then reaching out for a second, then turning to the other side and picking up a couple of boxes of snack bars.

“You planning on being how long?” Dean huffed, grabbing some drinks for him, picking up an iced coffee and debating if it would be one Sam liked, deciding on getting it anyway.

“This stuff’ll keep for the way back if I need it, and the motel there. Figure it’s gonna be at least one night we’ll be staying there for. Probably two,”

“You, uh… you got an idea how you wanna do this?” Dean asked, watching Sam reach into the chilled cabinet and debating the sandwich and salad choices.

“Kinda? I mean… I thought I’d talked to Joshua some more about it on the way down. Get it… I don’t know. Clear in his head,”

“Make sure he takes a break driving down there. Don’t care how much he complains about it, don’t want him falling asleep at the wheel and you ending up in a ditch somewhere,”

“Dean,” Sam said, turning to him and looking nothing but amused, “it’ll be fine. I’ll be fine, okay?”

“I know you will,” Dean agreed with a small sigh, “and I know you can handle this. Handle yourself—”

And it was true, Dean realized to himself, he really didn’t doubt Sam for a second. The thought lifted some of the residual, guilty responsibility that had been sat hard on his stomach, and he found himself nodding back, smiling with more confidence.

“—You got this. You’ve pretty much _always_ got this. I just… old habits die hard and all that, you know?”

“Would it make you feel better if I promised to wash behind my ears, and... not talk to strangers when I’m out there?” Sam teased, nudging at him and nodding towards the checkout.

“It’d make me feel better if you’d check in, let me— _us —_know how you’re going,” Dean answered, nudging him back.

“How ‘bout this,” Sam said, unloading everything from his arms on to the counter. “I’m gonna talk him through some stuff on the way down there. ‘Bout what to expect, what we’ve seen happen in the past with stuff like this,”

“Good plan,” Dean agreed, bending to drop down the things he was holding as well.

“And then I… I guess it depends what kinda time we get there, but we’ll… head on down to the carnival and see if… see if just Joshua being there _summons_ Thomas, or something,”

Dean tapped against Sam’s arm as the guy serving finally appeared from whatever he’d been doing at the back, then spun around, coming back a second later with four containers of salt, and watched as their bags were packed.

“You’ve got the two good crowbars, a ton of salt bullets and a couple ‘o guns. And these,” Dean said as they turned to leave, lifting up one of the salts from the bag clutched in his arms, and sliding it back in.

“Thomas never really attacked anyone outside of the anniversary of his death, right?” Sam asked, wedging the door open for Dean.

“Nope. I mean, people said the lights sparked up and there were noises and stuff, but. No attacks,”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, frowning a little.

“What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that… since we’re going outside of the anniversary now, and we switched off the power when you got hurt—not that the power hadn’t obviously been switched on and off a bunch of times—”

“You’re thinking that maybe ‘cos it’s out of, uh, _season_ , maybe Thomas won’t show up?” Dean asked, stepping to the side to let a couple pass them on the street.

“Maybe,” Sam shrugged, “I mean, guess we’ll know when we get there. Can’t exactly predict how it’s gonna be, right?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Dean smiled, with a huff to himself, and the last of the worry he was feeling for Sam going without him dimming, like it wanted him to know it was still there, but that it was also giving him a little respite.

“I will,” Sam nodded, smiling over at him, and Dean was sure there was a _thank you_ hidden there behind his eyes.

“‘Sides,” Dean said, tilting his chin as Joshua came into view, loading his own things in the car and standing there as though figuring out if there was anything else he needed, “you got about the best thing for rousing Thomas at any time that it’s possible to have,”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, turning his own gaze to look at Joshua, and Dean watched the way his jaw set in obvious dislike.

“And you know,” Dean added, breaking out into an unconscious smile as Cas came into view stood at the other side of Joshua’s car, “you can call. If you want us to look something up, or anything,”

“Got it,”

“And maybe—”

“I’ll check in when I get there,” Sam laughed, already anticipating Dean’s question. Dean shot him back a rueful smile but added nothing further, just loaded Sam’s purchases into the trunk when Joshua opened it for him then stepped back as he slammed it closed.

Dean watched Sam mumble something to Cas, then climb into the car with a final wave without turning back, and that conflicted feeling welled up again in his chest, leaving him torn. But then he felt the heat of Cas as he came to stand beside him, pressing their arms together and reaching for his hand, then stood and watched the car drive away, until he could no longer hear the engine.

“Sam will be fine,” Cas assured him, squeezing his fingers so Dean would know to look, offering up a small smile when he did.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, looking back to the road for a second and then back to Cas, leaning in to kiss him, “yeah, he will,”

* * *

“It’s not exactly a beach,”

Cas continued staring up at the sky for another moment then turned to look at Dean curiously, until Dean dropped his own gaze down to meet Cas’.

“You said. You said you wanna ‘watch the stars from the beach’. This ‘s more like a… an overgrown garden,”

They were standing at the back of the lodge at the end of a long stretch of grass that was in severe need of cutting, having noticed a trail around the back of it on their way back from dinner. They had been stood there in silence with their faces turned up to the stars for what felt like half an hour now, although, Dean thought, smiling when Cas reached across to slot their fingers together, it could easily have been far less—or more. He always lost track of time with Cas.

The day had been one of those that felt both too quick and far too slow, with Dean torn between a continual whisper in the back of his head thinking about Sam, and the rest of him feeling as though he’d never get enough of the feeling of alone time with Cas. Like just then, for instance, when Cas decided to shift to settle himself back against Dean’s chest and drop his head back on to his shoulder, grip around Dean’s wrists to wrap his arms around Cas’ waist, then sigh as though pleased to be there.

“It is,” Cas agreed, “though that does not mean there will not one day be a beach to do this from,”

“I know,” Dean answered, nuzzling against his cheek, “just saying,”

Dean wrapped his arms a little tighter around Cas and hummed against him, enjoying the peace that came from being in what felt like the middle of nowhere with nothing urgent they needed to do. Sam had messaged not that long ago to say they’d arrived and were headed to a motel. So for the moment, there was nothing for Dean to do other than just _be_ , and he reveled in it, enjoying the sense of not needing to be _going_ anywhere, at least for a few hours.

“How’d you feel about us taking off somewhere? Having ourselves a little road trip once this case is over with?” Dean asked, mumbling the question into Cas’ neck and smiling at his pleased hum in answer.

“Would you… be willing to do that?” Cas answered, doubt obvious in his voice.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean enthused, squeezing a little tighter, “I mean. I’ve been thinking about it ever since you talked about all that stuff. Just _living_ , you know?”

“Oh,” Cas answered, a breathy little thing that spoke of his surprise at Dean’s words. Dean backed them up with a kiss to his cheek, gently turning him until he could cup Cas’ jaw, and pull him closer to claim his mouth.

“I mean,” Dean said, kissing him quickly, “don’t know ‘bout you, but… not like we couldn’t do with a break. This whole case, it’s been… I don’t know. Parts of it at least’ve been… _slow_ , for us. And I don’t know if it’s _you —_ _us_ , that’s making me feel like… that’s making me feel like it’s okay to _like_ that feeling a bit, but. I kinda _do_ like it,”

“You are used to being more… occupied,” Cas summarised for him, and Dean nodded in answer, but only after pressing another soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Well, yeah. And it’s like… don’t get me wrong. Hunting’s pretty much all I know, and I think—I _know_ , it’s always gonna be a part of my life. Even if it’s just… like. When we’re old and… looking back and stuff, we’ll still talk about all o’ this. Piss off the staff and other residents in our nursing home by hoarding all the salt shakers and… lining the windows with it and stuff,”

As intended, Cas laughed softly in answer, and looped his arms a little tighter around his waist.

“And maybe,” Dean continued, “maybe we’ll figure out a way before all o’ that when we can… I don’t know. Train other hunters up, help the network, learn more lore and stuff—”

“Dean. It sounds as though you are preparing for your retirement,” Cas said, a little teasing in his voice, but a lot of questioning there as well.

“Well,” Dean said, shrugging, “maybe not _retirement_ , but. We can’t always be… I mean, gonna come a day when all the stuff we’ve been through’s gonna start biting us back. Dislocated shoulders, broken bones, and all that stuff; one day it’s just… it’s not gonna fly anymore,”

“Why have you never spoken of this before?” Cas asked, gently gripping around his sides and staring back at him.

“‘Cos,” Dean smiling, leaning forward for yet another kiss, “not exactly had anyone to talk to about it. About anything, really. Least, no one I felt like I _could_ with; not like _this_ , not like—not like... I don’t need to hide what I’m thinking, or… leave parts out, and stuff,”

Cas’ kiss for him then was long and thorough, as though trying to convey all that he was thinking without saying a single word. Dean smiled and wrapped his arms tighter around him, ducking to drop his head down on Cas’ shoulder when they broke apart, and closing his eyes. There had been two conflicting emotions vying for his attention all day; caution for Sam, and contentment for being with Cas. Dean smiled into Cas’ neck, allowing the contented feeling to win out, and hugged him closer still.

“So,” Cas said, nudging for him to step back, then lacing their fingers together, and nodding towards the lodge, “where would we go on this road trip?”

“You’d be up for it?” Dean asked, hopefully, his mind already plotting a hundred different things they could do, or places they could go.

“I would,” Cas agreed, and Dean caught his smile in the muted light coming from a room as they passed, his stomach jolting for just how happy he looked.

“Then how ‘bout, we don’t plan it too much?” Dean suggested, gripping his hand tightly as he retrieved the room key from his pocket with the other. “How ‘bout we just… head out. Leave the bunker, pick a road, see where we end up?”

“That might… take some time,” Cas pointed out, and Dean couldn’t miss the caution in his voice, nor how it contrasted with the excitement flaring in his eyes.

Dean opened their door saying nothing, then crowded Cas back against it to close it, and ducked in to kiss him all over again. “It might,” he agreed, mouthing along his neck and raising his hands to start to help Cas out of his jacket, “but I kinda like the sound of that, Cas,”

Cas hummed to himself, pushing at Dean’s own jacket and easing it down his arms, then trailed his fingers over his stomach, toying with his belt buckle and looking back at him with a smile. “As do I,”

* * *

“Sam says they went to the carnival when they got there last night and nothing happened. Gonna try again tonight once it’s dark; thinks they were too tired to really see anything anyway,” Dean frowned at the message on his phone despite having already read its contents three times, then fired off a quick response telling Sam to be careful.

“What is it that you are worried about?” Cas asked, handing him the coffee he’d bought before sinking down beside Dean on the small couch with a relieved huff.

“You doing okay?” Dean asked, immediately reaching for him, for the way Cas closed his eyes and dropped his head back on the back of the couch.

“Just a little tired; we walked for, I believe, almost two hours,” Cas smiled, reaching out to squeeze his leg affectionately then sitting up enough so that he could sip at his own coffee.

“True,” Dean agreed, studying him for another moment, then relenting.

Up until about mid-afternoon they’d stayed in bed, wrapped around each other and talking until their stomachs grew too loud for either of them to ignore. Once they’d left their room, the town itself had very little to keep them occupied, and once they’d walked its few streets had followed a short trail along the length of a small creek.

They’d stopped to look at a patch of flowers that stood out for their brightness against a backdrop of green, with Cas muttering about the importance of wildflowers and Dean watched and smiled. Then made their way back with Cas scowling and complaining under his breath at what had obviously been a kind of campfire, complete with a scattering of litter left around it—that naturally, Cas had then started picking up, with Dean first smiling adoringly at seeing him do, then wordlessly joining in.

This cafe they’d come to, about five minutes from their lodge, was the last place Dean intended on being that was out of their room. He was tired, and could think of nothing better than ordering in, and curling up beside Cas, watching whatever they found that was worth their attention, if anything.

“Sam?” Cas prompted, when Dean hadn’t answered his question. Dean nodded, taking a sip of his coffee and staring down at his phone again, despite knowing there would likely be no answer for hours.

“Just… hoping they can fix this, is all,” Dean sighed, wriggling back to get comfortable, “I mean, I hope they’ve not gone all the way down there for nothing,”

“Hopefully they will have more success this evening,”

“Yeah,”

“Is this… are you happy here, Dean?” Cas asked then, the doubt in his voice making Dean’s head shoot up in surprise.

“Uh… yeah? ‘Course I’m happy, Cas, I—”

“You are worried about Sam,” Cas said, and Dean was even more surprised by the guilty look now evident on his face.

“Yeah, but… that’s not… I’m always gonna worry ‘bout him,”

“We could be there with him,” Cas sighed, frowning down at his lap, where his fingers curled in a soft grip around his coffee cup.

“We could,” Dean agreed, rolling towards and kissing him, “but we’re not. We’re here. And I’m… gotta be honest, Cas. I know I’m… thinking about Sam a bit, but… I’m loving being here like this with you. Really,”

“You are?” Cas asked, taking a couple of seconds before he could make himself look at Dean, and answering the smile there waiting for him with a cautious one of his own.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean repeated, emphasizing his words, and leaning forward to kiss him, “I am. And it’s not like I don’t worry ‘bout Sam all the time. I mean, I know, I shouldn’t, I don’t need to… babysit him or anything… not like I don’t trust him, or think he can’t do any o’ this stuff, it’s just… how we are, I guess,”

“It is instinctual,” Cas said, nodding as though finding sense to Dean’s words.

“It is,” Dean insisted, smiling again, “and it’s probably always gonna be like this, ‘cos I’ve… always had to look out for him. Even when we were kids and sometimes I resented having to, I still did it. Felt guilty as hell the few times I tried not to, so, yeah. It’s… it’s what I do. But that don’t mean I can’t like what’s happening here at the same time,”

“And what is it that is _happening here_?” Cas asked, turning in to his side a little and smiling.

Dean reached out to angle his jaw how he wanted it, then guided Cas closer to kiss him again. “We’re… figuring out you and me. In fact, we’re past _figuring_ us out; we’re just… _being_ us, you know? And I’m… this is… this is the best idea I’ve had all _year_ ,”

“Dean,” Cas laughed, knocking his forehead against his shoulder before sitting back up, “technically, this was Sam’s idea. If… he had not made the suggestion that we remain here whilst he returned with Joshua, I would have assumed we were all going back together. An alternative to that had never… it has never happened, and therefore it— _this_ had never occurred to me,”

Dean thought about that, and couldn’t disagree at all; in fact, he felt guilty for it. With all the apprehension that had been stirring in his gut for _letting_ Sam go alone —which immediately, Dean scoffed at, for his use of the word _letting —_he hadn’t really paid too much attention to what Cas might be wanting. Not that Cas had specifically asked, nor wouldn’t have been happy with whatever they’d chosen to do; that was sort of beside the point.

“You gotta… from now on, Cas, you gotta tell me if… if there’s something you want,” Dean said, as earnest as he could, reaching for Cas’ hand and holding on until he nodded, then loosening his grip but not letting go. “You need to… if you want something—and I don’t mean, _stuff_ , I mean, if you want something from me, or… wanna do something with me—or even just... wanna do anything at all. You gotta… you gotta tell me, Cas,”

“I am… happy that _we_ decided to do this,” Cas replied, his eyes narrowing a little in suspicion as they flitted over Dean’s face, as though trying to work him out.

“Yeah, me too, Cas, more than… I’m real happy we chose to do this,” Dean said, squeezing his fingers again.

“Then—”

“But I want you to tell me if you wanna do something, and not just… not just be happy to go along with whatever we—Sam and me, decided,” Dean added, staring Cas down and hoping he could make him understand just how important that was to him. “You need to… it’s important. _You’re_ important, Cas. I need you to… I need you to know that,”

Cas sighed, but it was a happy one, a tiny smile playing around his lips once again. “Then _you_ need to know, Dean, that I am looking forward to spending the evening with you back in our room. And that I am happy to be here now. This was an… excellent idea, whoever takes the credit for it,”

“Then drink up,” Dean winked, tilting his chin towards Cas’ coffee and moving to drain his own.

“We are in no hurry,” Cas answered, reaching out to stop him lifting the mug to his mouth again, “we have hours left today. And I imagine, much of tomorrow; perhaps longer, depending on how successful they are this evening at the carnival. We can… sit here for a while. I would like that,”

Dean smiled, lifting his arm up and nodding in approval as Cas ducked under it to settle against him, then shifted until they were both comfortable once again.

* * *

“He’s a dick,”

Dean did his best to muffle his laugh, then looked over to find Cas shuffling back against the headboard and did the same, holding the phone away and pressing a kiss into Cas’ neck.

“Yeah, well, we knew that,” Dean answered, putting the phone on speaker and turning it so both he and Cas could listen.

“We stopped for gas, I went to the restroom. And when I came out, there was a pile of food on the counter and this pissed-off looking cashier telling me Joshua said I’d pay for all of that plus the gas,”

“I hope you didn’t,” Dean grumbled out, curling his fingers into an unconscious fist.

“I didn’t,” Sam agreed, “told her as much. Stood there waiting by the counter and watched her stomp outside and drag him back in practically by his ear,” which Dean found hilarious, and even had Cas turning to him with a slight smile.

“And then,” Sam added, sounding as though he was warming to his subject, “he tried to pull the same stunt at the motel. And when that didn’t work, he wanted to look at my room first, make sure it wasn’t better than his,”

“Sounds like a tool,”

“Yeah,” Sam snorted, “and get this. When we got to the carnival when we got here—and I admit, it was late, we went straight there after driving all that way - he didn’t even want to get out of the car and look. Just sat there refusing to move ‘till I shoved him out,”

Dean scowled at the phone, and Sam took his silence as answer enough.

“Last night he was better, but. After spending the whole day listening to him complaining about losing work, by then I’d… I’d had enough,”

“So what happened?” Dean asked, frowning at just how much he wanted to punch Joshua all over again.

“Well,” Sam sighed, “turns out all his complaining, and… and _whining_? Was ‘cos he was _scared_. Apparently he was convinced, years ago, he’d seen his wife’s ghost, and that she was… haunting him or something, for taking Thomas away from his home,”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed, sarcasm dripping from it, “well, wouldn’t blame her if she had,”

“Yeah,” Sam said, echoing that laugh, “he practically held my hand all the way in,”

“And?” Dean prompted, listening to Sam shuffle around.

“And,” Sam sighed, yawning a little, “second we got in there, whole place started sparking up. Like… lights were popping, and… flickering, and all ‘o that. Banging, crashing all around us,”

“And Thomas?”

“No sign of him,” Sam sighed again, “I mean, you could… you could feel _something_ , and… I mean, if Joshua hadn’t freaked out and… run back to the car, I think… if we’dve given it more than five minutes—”

“He wouldn’t even stick around?” Dean blasted out, furious.

“Nope. I’m gonna talk to him today, see if I can… I don’t know… talk a backbone into the guy. And I’m gonna… I’m going back tonight if he’s there or not—”

“Sam—”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Sam replied, amusement tinging his words, “I’ve got everything I need for a summoning spell—as a backup—if I can’t convince him to come with. And I’ll… I’ll deal with it. I’m hoping I’ll talk some sense into him and it’ll just… it’ll be fine,”

“Nothing stopping us heading down there if you want us to,” Dean offered, not needing to turn to Cas to check since Cas was already leaning in to nod in agreement against his shoulder.

“It’s fine,” Sam repeated, and Dean was sure he could hear him shaking his head, “I’m gonna… I’ll convince him to come with and… spend today figuring out as much about Thomas as I can for if I… if I ended up dealing with it myself,”

“You’re sure?” Dean repeated, hearing the sense of Sam’s words yet not quite able to move beyond his own need to reach out and protect.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sam insisted, obviously stretching and yawning once again, “so. You and Cas go and do… whatever it is you’re doing today, and I’ll… talk to Joshua. Maybe sleep some more. I’ll… call tomorrow,”

“Okay,” Dean agreed, trying to keep the reluctance from his voice, “we’ll—”

“Oh, hey, Cas,” Sam said then, his voice shifting into something happier, excited even, “before I forget. Teresa and Peggy are good; police found them a couple of states over like… the _day_ after we left. Parents didn’t want any fuss about it so… persuaded the local papers to keep it quiet,”

“Are they okay?” Cas asked, shifting beside and jostling Dean, who moved willingly with him and nuzzled into his side, quiet pride surging through him for the obvious concern in Cas’ voice.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Sam reassured him, “apparently it was just some… misunderstanding with Teresa’s mom. She was worrying about the age difference between them, that Peggy was gonna be going off to college soon—next year, I guess—and didn’t want Teresa to be hurt; thought they were getting too serious for her not to be upset when Peggy’s gone. But all ‘s good now, apparently; I ran into Wayne again, he told me everything. Including—”

Dean winced in anticipation of whatever Sam was about to tell him, already hearing the amusement in his voice.

“—to say hi to his favorite Fed,”

“Great,” Dean mumbled with a small scowl, feeling Cas smile into his shoulder.

“He made sure to tell me he meant the dark haired one, not the blond,” Sam added, his voice filled with teasing glee. Dean grumbled wordless complaints into the phone, then caught the blush on Cas’ cheeks and leaned over to kiss one.

“Anyway… I guess that’s settled,” Sam said a moment later, with a relieved sigh of his own.

“So it was kinda lucky we saw this thing when we did, huh?” Dean said, huffing to himself and pinching his eyes closed, leaning in a little more to Cas’ side.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, yawning for a third time.

“Okay, okay,” Dean said, “sleep. Let us know if you need anything. Good luck tonight, okay?”

Cas offered his own goodbyes, and Dean ended the call, turning to push the phone back to the bedside table then rolling over and dragging Cas to lay back down.

“He will be fine,” Cas assured him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder and smiling as Dean kissed his sternum then pressed his chin there, looking up.

“Yeah,”

“He will,” Cas insisted, leaning forward so Dean would know to raise back up to be kissed. “Perhaps we can sleep a little longer,”

“You tired?” Dean asked, bending down over him and smiling at the contented little sigh blasted from Cas’ mouth.

“I am comfortable. And warm,” Cas answered with, sliding his hand across Dean’s shoulders into a one-armed hug.

Dean smiled against him and ducked back down, burying his head in Cas’ neck and sighing out hard at the feel of being wrapped up in his arms, telling himself not to worry about Sam.

* * *

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Dean’s phone vibrating against the wood of the bedside table woke him from a dream, and he had to untangle his fingers from where Cas’ hand pressed them against his stomach to reach out and snag it up.

Sam’s message of, _we’re done here, speak later_ , had Dean both relieved and suspicious, but he fired a quick message back and pushed the phone away again, turning in Cas’ arms and wriggling back to get comfortable in his warmth.

“Sam?” Cas asked gruffly, wrapping his arm tighter around Dean and drawing him in.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, with a kiss at his throat, “go back to sleep,” which they did for a while, until Cas’ bladder interrupted them.

“What are we gonna do today?” Dean asked, rising from the bed to take his turn in the bathroom as Cas finished, and stopping to kiss Cas on his way back out.

“I think we have seen everything there is to see of here,” Cas answered as Dean stuck his head around the bathroom door with his toothbrush jutting out of his mouth.

“Could stay here. Sam might be on his way back anyway,”

“Thomas?”

“Don’t know,” Dean answered after rinsing his mouth out and coming back into the room, “just said they’re done. I… guess that means they’re headed back, but…”

“Then, unless you are hungry, we could stay here a while longer,” Cas said, reaching for Dean the moment he climbed back into bed.

“Good plan,”

“How are you feeling?” Cas asked, nuzzling against him, then leaning in for a kiss.

“Me?” Dean huffed with a slight frown. “I’m good,”

“I mean,” Cas said, cupping Dean’s face and shifting a little closer, “it has been a… difficult few days. This case, Sam leaving, and you…”

“Me, _talking_ , and all that?” Dean finished for him when Cas’ words trailed away. Cas nodded solemnly, and Dean kissed him hard to wipe the expression from his face. “Cas. I’m good,”

“I hope that you do not… resent me, for… _pushing —_”

“I’d say it was more of a nudge,” Dean corrected immediately, with a small shake of his head, and a quick smile. “And besides; whole load of… well, all o’ that stuff, it… guess it needed to be said. Not saying it was easy, or anything—or like I’m… like any time soon I’m gonna feel like blurting my _feelings_ out every time something comes up, but. I’m… glad I talked,”

Cas still looked back at him with caution, and Dean rolled his eyes before leaning in to kiss him once again.

“I would hope that… in future, should there be something you needed, you _wanted_ to talk about, that you would… that you would feel _comfortable_ , talking about them with _me_ ,” Cas said in a halting, slightly hopeful voice, staring Dean down as though fearful of what he might be about to say.

Dean smiled in return, nodding. “I’ll try,”

“I would never force you—”

“Cas,” Dean laughed, stroking a hand up his arm and squeezing, “I know, okay? I know you won’t, and I know that… if I’m gonna _talk_ , it’d… it’d be you I’d… I’d wanna try talking to,”

Cas’ smile was pleased, and even a little proud, as he spread his hand wide in claim around Dean’s hip.

“Gotta go both ways though,” Dean added, ducking to mouth along his jaw, “if you need, or _want_ to talk, you gotta… you gotta know I’m… I’ll listen, if you want me to,”

Cas beamed at him then, pulling him in for a lengthy kiss that Dean would swear he felt reaching through every inch of him.

As their breath became more thready, and the gentle rutting together they’d been doing turned into something a little more frantic, Cas rolled Dean over on his back, pressing him there with his chest, his fingers slotting through Dean’s own to push into the bed. He kissed Dean again, taking his time to explore his mouth, all whilst writhing between his legs in a languid roll, humming repeated comments into his ear, about how good he felt.

When Cas released his fingers, Dean swept his hands up over Cas’ back, relishing in the feel of his skin, spreading his fingers wide to touch even more of him at once. He raised and wrapped his legs around Cas’ waist, matching every roll he gave with one of his own, groaning out for every pulse of pleasure it surged through him.

Cas shifted, adjusting his weight onto his hands, and in doing so dislodged Dean’s legs, smiling as he heard them fall back to the bed. He shifted again without warning, mouthing his way down Dean’s chest and lapping at his cock, humming pleased as Dean cried out and spread his legs further apart.

“I think I need to look at you,” Cas announced, gently pushing on Dean’s thighs until his feet were flat against the bed, then settling on his knees and just _looking_ at him. Dean panted, the look of lust in Cas’ eyes as they drifted over him thickening his cock, leaving it jolting and seeking out friction in the air between them, with Cas repeatedly returning to watch it twitch and licking his lips.

“Cas…” Dean whimpered, having stood it as long as he could, his throat clicking as Cas finally raised his gaze back up to his face, the heated expression there making Dean’s heart thud. Cas stared back at him for another moment then ducked down, lapping over his cock again, then wrapping his fingers around his shaft, beginning a long, tight stroke.

With his stomach rippling in anticipation, Dean watched half-transfixed as Cas laid his head on his hip, studying his own hand moving up and down Dean’s length. Dean caught a shift in his expression seconds before Cas adjusted the angle of his hand, swirling his thumb over Dean’s head and pressing a laugh into his skin, as Dean let out an involuntary gasp.

Cas smiled, turning his head to kiss against Dean’s hip then shifting just a little, continuing to stroke him as he explored with his other hand. Cas encouraged Dean to plant his feet more securely on the bed and open up to him, and rewarded him with kisses to his inner thigh, the crease of his groin, and the base of his cock. Then trailing his fingers down the length of Dean’s thigh, Cas began a gentle tease of his balls, rolling them repeatedly, his thumb dipping down to sweep along his perineum and smiling his kisses into Dean’s skin for his repeated stuttered gasps, all whilst his other hand kept up that same, steady slide.

Dean dropped his head back on the pillow with a groan as Cas used two fingers to part his cheeks, then pressed his thumb in a tight circle over his hole. And Cas then dropped his grip on him altogether, spreading his cheeks wider with both hands, still circling his thumb there, pressing firm enough to dip a little inside.

“Please,” Dean called out, rolling his hips up to meet him, his stomach fluttering yet again for the way Cas kept him held open, and trailed his gaze all the way up him before settling on his face.

“Yes, Dean?” he asked, calmly, as though unaffected by what he was doing, though Dean could see Cas’ own cock jolting and straining, his chest heaving with the exertion of waiting.

“I want…” Dean managed to blast out, but Cas shifted to press a little firmer, and Dean had to drop his head back again. He snapped it up at the feel of Cas’ hands sliding over his ass cheeks, gasping out as Cas teased his length between them, then bluntly pressed himself against his hole.

“What do you want?” Cas demanded, angling his head back to watch himself striking against him.

“You. Cas, I want _you_ ,” Dean stuttered out, earning himself a triumphant smile, before Cas ducked yet again to mouth over his cock then kneeled his way off the bed, stretching at the foot of it.

“Where are you going?” Dean called out in surprise, eyes down on Cas’ ass as he walked away from him across the room.

“To retrieve your purchase,” Cas replied, disappearing into the bathroom for a second then returning with a bottle of lube pressed in his palm, staring down at the safety wrapping and appearing to study it. “I saw it in your bag when you told me to _help myself to a shirt_ ,”

“Hand it over,” Dean demanded, waving his hand out for it, though fumbling and trembling so hard that he could barely snag an end of the seal. Cas snatched it back, smiling and bending for a kiss, then sank down on the side of the bed for a second, humming to himself at the ripping sound that followed as he peeled back the plastic.

Cas shifted again, and Dean’s stomach jolted, first for hearing the snap of the lube cap, and second for the jostling press of Cas as he laid back down by his side. Cas trapped Dean’s leg between his for a second then shifted to drape it over his thigh, pushing the other away, and humming in approval when Dean splayed himself wide.

“You, uh… you know what you’re doing?” Dean stuttered out, not even really meaning it, though feeling like he needed to say something to stop the urgent way his heart was pounding.

“Dean,” Cas answered with, not saying another word, though smiling as though thoroughly amused, then shifted to pour the lube on to his waiting fingers, flexing them and forming a fist, and dropping it down between Dean’s legs.

Dean moaned as Cas breached him, closed his eyes as Cas’ finger slid in deep, flexing around the intrusion and already asking for more. Cas huffed in laughter against his shoulder, taking his time to press in and around his walls, crooking his finger just so, and huffing again at Dean’s answering whine.

“You like this,” Cas observed, still sounding amused as he curled over and kissed him, propping himself up on his elbow and continuing to work his finger into Dean.

“Yeah…” Dean answered breathily, sparks of pleasure and heat jolting through him, trying to chase Cas’ mouth to kiss him, yet failing as Cas angled his finger just right. Cas hummed, pressing forward to kiss him, licking his way into Dean’s mouth without breaking the slide of his hand.

Dean arched and moaned his way through every press of Cas’ fingers to loosen him, gasping when Cas scissored him open then held him there like that, shifting up to look for himself.

“Cas…” Dean called desperately, reaching for him, and Cas turned his head to smile, rolling himself a little closer and kissing him slow, and thoroughly, still thrusting his fingers into him.

Dean felt like he couldn’t get full enough, or be filled deep enough, repeatedly rolling his hips up to meet Cas’ fingers and still trying to kiss back, in between the involuntary whimpers that kept blasting out of his mouth. And soon he was begging, pleading with Cas to get inside him, chasing Cas’ fingers as he withdrew them, then dropping his head back again as Cas crawled between his legs.

“Do you know what I plan on doing to you?” Cas asked, teasing and echoing Dean’s earlier question back to him, whilst settling himself on his knees and splaying Dean open, angling his head back to admire how he’d worked him open.

“Cas—”

But Dean’s desperate plea was cut off as Cas shifted forward, nudged his cockhead in a blunt press against his hole, then came to a stop.

“Cas,” Dean called again, trying to get his legs even wider, trying to roll his hips up against the way Cas was pushing him down.

“Prove to me that you want this,” Cas suggested, smiling down at him and dropping his hands so Dean could move. Dean had about a second to acknowledge exactly what Cas’ tone did to him, then rocked up as though he had no power over his own body, impaling himself a little as Cas began to slide in. Cas hummed, dropping his head down for a moment, then raised it again, splaying Dean wide. And then he angled himself, watching as he filled Dean as deep as he could, before falling forward and bracing on his forearms, and stealing Dean’s answering groan in claiming kiss.

“Are you okay?” Cas asked, soft words to go with the gentle stroke of his thumb against Dean’s face, trembling with the need to move yet keeping perfectly still.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed out, pressing his palms into Cas’ back and stroking, wrapping his hands around his shoulder blades and pulling him as close as possible. “Yeah, I’m good,”

“Good,” Cas answered, bending to kiss him, humming in approval against his lips as he rocked himself out of Dean, then slid back in. Dean laid still for a few moments, luxuriating in the feel of Cas stroking in and out of him, then rocked his hips up to meet him, receiving a punched out moan from Cas in reward. Dean reached up to slot his fingers through the back of Cas’ hair, his other hand dropping to his lower back, revelling in the feel of Cas languidly rolling into him. Cas lapped into his mouth, a continual moan hummed there for every time he filled him, as though he couldn’t get over just how good it felt.

Dean’s response was similar; for every slide of Cas into him, Dean groaned it out, or whimpered back into Cas’ mouth, letting him know just how good it was. Unhurried, they kept the same pace, pulling back only briefly to smile and check each of them were doing okay, then claiming their mouths again, unable to tear themselves away for long. And at a slightly harder angled thrust Cas groaned out hard, dropping his head down into Dean’s neck, mouthing and kissing there then ducking to kiss at his chest, and curving himself up to watch them.

“Look,” Cas commanded, and Dean’s eyes dropped automatically to the way Cas repeatedly filled him, catching Cas’ eye as he smiled in triumph, then groaning as Cas drew himself back, adjusting the way he knelt between his legs. With his hands braced on Dean’s upper thighs, Cas angled himself back, punching into him in exploration, humming pleased when Dean let out a shuddering gasp on a well-aimed strike.

“Good?” Cas asked, teasing, laughing softly at Dean’s rapid nodding in answer, then holding himself steady to repeatedly strike at the same spot. Dean arched into it, impaling himself deeper and calling out for even more.

Cas grinded into him a couple more times then fell forward again, resuming that gentle writhe of them together with increasingly desperate kisses as the heat in each of them built. Cas muttered Dean’s name into his mouth repeatedly in reverence, and Dean did his best to show the same back, with strokes of his hands up his back and whispered encouragement.

“You can… you can go harder, if you want,” he managed to blast out, the tension he could feel in Cas’ body saying just how much he was holding back.

“Dean,” Cas breathed, dropping his head into the crook of his neck again then sliding his hands across the mattress to brace himself better, and began pounding into him.

Dean arched up into it, the heat surging through him nothing but incredible, every strike of Cas’ hips between his stinging in the best kind of ways. Dean grabbed at Cas’ ass, grinding hard up against him, crying out as Cas growled into his neck then bit down there, mouthing and muttering against the bruise. And when it got too much, when he needed just a little more friction to help him come, Dean reached down to wrap his fingers around his length, crying out again.

Cas slowed his pace a little, curling up enough to watch Dean as he stroked himself, then blasted out his name desperately and pounded into him faster. His hands braced and slipped on the sheets, and Cas spread his knees a little to help him balance, calling Dean’s name repeatedly the entire time.

Dean felt himself build, the tightness of his hand around his length coupled with Cas filling him whole pushing him closer and closer still, until he arched up, groaning out as he came, spurting out against Cas’ chest and over his own. Cas looked down between them, going completely still for a second then falling forward once again, chasing his own release inside Dean.

Cas stilled when he came, grinding tight into him, and Dean swept greedy hands down his sides as he did, holding him there. Cas paused, looking down at him for a moment, then let out a winded grunt, and collapsed on top of him.

Cas, spent, and pressing the very air from his lungs with the force of it, Dean had only experienced a few times so far, yet was already completely enamoured by, sliding tired hands up and down his back then hugging him close, smiling at Cas’ rain of kisses into his neck. Cas gathered him close, tucked up in and against him at every point possible, and blasting out such a sigh of contentment than Dean couldn’t help laughing.

“You feel incredible,” Cas slurred into his skin, lazy kisses and soft little huffs leaving Dean smiling harder still, his own contentment there in the swell of his chest and that endless stretch of skin there beneath his palms. And when he felt Cas’ heart calm a little, he nudged him up, claiming himself a slow, languid kiss, unable to stop himself grinning up at Cas for just how _good_ he felt, and receiving a similar smile back.

* * *

 “Hey,” Dean smiled, breathing out in relief as Sam’s face unpixelated over Skype, and he offered up a half wave in greeting.

“Hey,” Sam nodded, “can’t talk for long, but—”

“Where are you?” Dean asked, taking in the angle Sam was looking at him from and assuming he must be in the car.

“Waiting for Joshua,” Sam sighed, pursing his lips together, then smiling and adding, “guess I don’t need to ask where _you_ are,”

Dean glanced over his shoulder to the unmade bed Sam could probably see, and shrugged, smiling. “Nope,”

“Wasn’t looking at the bed,” Sam smirked, deliberately lingering his eyes over the faint hickey on Dean’s neck. Dean blushed, absently reaching up to scratch at it then shrugged again, not caring, which just seemed to make Sam smile harder when he asked, “Where’s Cas?”

“Getting food; due back any minute. So, what’s going on?”

“Well,” Sam said, yawning and only just about covering his mouth as he did, “we’re done. Thomas is… _gone_ ,”

“So what happened?”

“It was weird. I spent most of yesterday talking Joshua into coming with me to the carnival, and gave up around… I guess… nine last night?”

“He didn’t go?” Dean scowled, shaking his head. “What’d he even stick around there all day for then if—”

“No, he did,” Sam shook his head, giving a pinched smile, “I stormed out of the bar where we were having dinner, made it a couple of miles, then Joshua pulls up beside me, and asks me to get in. Drove us straight to the carnival. Didn’t say a single word,”

“And?” Dean prompted, sending a quick smile in Cas’ direction as he walked in, and pulling a chair over so he’d know to sit beside him.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam smiled, “he, uh… we’d talked about maybe needing to summon Thomas or something. Joshua came up with the idea of switching the power back on, _giving him some juice_ , he called it,”

Dean mumbled under his breath, but gestured for Sam to continue, accepting the food Cas passed to him and unwrapping it on his lap. “That work?”

“Sorta,” Sam nodded, “we went back into the Mirrors place and kind of… set up on the floor,”

“Set up?” Dean asked, taking a sip of coffee and nudging against Cas’ arm in thanks.

“Yeah, for the spell. Didn’t need it in the end, but—”

“He just show up? Thomas?”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, his face becoming sad, “he did. Kinda… like an outline, I guess, like you described,”

“Didn’t try and reach out and break Joshua’s neck like he might’ve been trying with me?”

“No, nothing like that. Not really, anyway,”

“What’s _not really_ mean?”

“It means,” Sam sighed again, with another quick glance out of the window, “that _Thomas_ , he… he reached out, like… just like he was going to hold Joshua’s hand, or something. But like… the second he ‘touched’ him, Joshua sort of… jolted. Went rigid—like… I guess, like electricity was going through him,”

“He… he okay?” Dean asked, arguing with himself both that he didn’t really care, and that Joshua must be okay given that he and Sam were driving.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “he said it was just like… I don’t know, a mild shock or something, nothing too bad. Said he didn’t even mind it, considering what Thomas’d been through,”

Dean nodded in answer, taking a bite of food, and gesturing for Sam to go on.

“And then it was like… I don’t know, Dean, _weird_. Like… like I was listening through really thick glass or something, and couldn’t really move. And everything was kind of… I don’t know... blue, like… like there was some kind of mist in the room or something. I could hear them talking, and after, Joshua, he wouldn’t tell me what Thomas said —told me to butt out, that it was private, which is… fair enough, I guess,”

“And then?”

“And then,” Sam sighed, “there was this… you know the kind of high pitched whine you sometimes get when you’re working through radio stations? Like that. And then, Thomas was just... gone, Joshua was falling to his knees in a heap, and the place was filling with smoke. I grabbed the spell stuff, grabbed him, hauled him out. And I guess… I guess that’s it?”

“Just like that, huh?” Dean huffed to himself, again feeling relieved, though slightly unprepared to believe it was completely over.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, wiping a tired hand over his face, “Joshua just… dropped. Like… to the ground outside. Inconsolable. I… didn’t know what to do, didn’t expect it to happen at _all_ , given how he’s been. So, I… I went and switched the power off again, helped him up, dragged him to the car. I had to take his keys off him since he was obviously in no state to drive,”

“Well… _good_ ,” Dean said after a cautious pause, “I mean… I’m… _sorry_ he’s upset and all, I guess, but—”

“He kinda brought it on himself,” Sam finished for him, nodding, “it’s all he’s been saying ever since. Keeps… talking to himself about it, sometimes to me, sometimes he just… stares off into the distance, and I’m braced ready to grab the steering wheel, in case he doesn’t keep his eyes on the road, the way he’s kinda… out of it,”

“Where are you?” Dean asked, frowning, as a slight jolt of worry flared in his gut.

“We’re about… I don’t know, actually. Maybe six hours out from you? Joshua woke me up at five this morning saying he wanted to get back; what is it with you guys and early starts?” Sam teased.

“Places to be, Sammy,” Dean said with a shrug, though smiling back. “So you stopped for a break?”

“Second one,” Sam nodded, “Joshua said he… needed some time, so… handed me the car keys and walked off somewhere in this… shopping mall place we’ve pulled into. I grabbed some food, came back, thought I’d let you know we’re on our way. Kind of,”

“Should we… get you a room for this evening, Sam? Would you prefer to rest here before we go back to the bunker?” Cas asked, his face the picture of concern. Dean smiled to see it, and without even hesitating or caring that Sam was right there in front of them on the screen, dropped a kiss on Cas’ shoulder before nodding in agreement.

“It’s a good idea,” he said, before taking another bite of food.

“That’d be great, guys,” Sam said with a smile, the corners of his lips teasing up a little further.

“Done,”

“Okay, so. I’m gonna go; think I can see Joshua heading back. Doubt he’d wanna hear us talking about him like this,”

“‘K. Drive safe. We’ll see you soon,”

When Sam had waved goodbye and ended the call, Dean closed the laptop lid and turned until his knee was nudging into Cas’ thigh. “Guess we’re going home,”

Cas nodded, smiling as he leaned in for a kiss. “It will be good to be back,”

“Not gonna be weird for you?” Dean asked, nudging against him again. “I mean. Things have kinda… changed for us. You. Me. _This_ ,” and with that he squeezed a hand around Cas’ thigh, the other in a light grip of his shoulder with his thumb running up the length of Cas’ neck, and kissed him again.

“It will only be _weird_ if there is any reason for us not to… continue as we are,” Cas answered, staring back at him pointedly.

Dean nodded, taking the last bite of his food then swigging back his coffee, letting his eyes linger over Cas’ own belated lunch so he’d know to hurry up.

“I’m thinking,” Dean said, pressing a kiss to Cas’ cheek then deliberately turning to look at their bed, “we’ve got some time to kill ‘fore Sam gets back here,”

Cas rolled his eyes but smiled, giving a small nod.

“So how ‘bout this. You finish eating, we’ll go back to bed for a bit,”

“Are you tired, Dean?”

“Nope,” Dean answered, nuzzling into his neck, “not even a little bit,”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“I _suggest_ ,” Dean smiled, nipping at his ear, “you hurry the hell up, so I can show you exactly how not-weird us being back in the bunker together’s gonna be,”

Cas laughed, though crumpled up the paper in his hands, and dropped it down on the table. “Since we are not yet in the bunker, there would be no proof of that,”

“No,” Dean admitted, raising to his feet and extending a hand, “but I can… show you all the things I want us to do—in the privacy of our own room o’ course—once we get back there,”

“All?” Cas teased, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pulling him close. “Do we have time for that?”

“Maybe not all,” Dean conceded, mouthing up his neck and along his jaw, “maybe some. Maybe a fraction. Maybe a starter. An appetizer, a—”

“Did you say, _our_ room, Dean?” Cas asked then, pulling back slightly from him and raising an eyebrow. Dean smiled in answer, then nodded, feeling his stomach jolt with excitement at the thought.

“Like I’m ever gonna get another night’s sleep if you’re not _with_ me,” Dean huffed after a moment, raising his hands to cup Cas’ face, and kissing him again. “Like I’d even _wanna_ be without you again,”

“Then. I am all yours, Dean,” Cas smiled in answer after smiling at him, practically beaming with how happy he was, then wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, holding on tight as he guided him back towards the bed.

* * *

“Hey,”

Dean’s eyebrows raised in surprise at the softness of Sam’s voice, but were soon joined by a smile splitting his face to hear Eileen’s answering, _hey, Sam_.

“Eileen,” he said, leaning across the seat and smiling into the laptop screen, “hey, how’s it going?”

“Good,” Eileen smiled back, and Dean nodded, sitting back in his seat.

“So _that’s_ why you’ve sat there with the laptop open for that past hour, huh?” Dean teased, laughing as Sam flushed a little red. Huh. _Payback_.

“Hi,” Sam said, eventually, glancing over at Dean for a second, then wriggling to get comfortable, looking like he was trying to curl away from Dean.

“Are you driving?” Eileen asked, sounding curious.

“Yeah. Well, no. Dean is,” Sam stumbled, and Dean found himself snorting out laughter, earning himself a glare.

“You’re working?”

“Just finished one, actually,” Sam answered, and Dean continued smiling to himself as Sam and Eileen exchanged details of their cases.

“So,” Eileen said once they were done, and Dean was sure he could hear her moving about, “I was thinking. If it’s okay with you—with you all. I was thinking, maybe after I’ve finished here. Or maybe, more realistically in a week or so. I thought about dropping in for a visit,”

“Yes,” Sam answered immediately, both verbally and signing, “I’d like that. _We_. Uh… it’ll be great to see you,”

“Want us to clear out?” Dean asked mildly, catching a tiny flicker of a grimace on Sam’s face.

“You’re sure?” Eileen asked, sounding uncertain, though pleased.

“Yes,” Dean enthused, leaning in to tell her and nodding rapidly. Cas nudged Sam to lift the laptop up and signed back his own agreement.

“How are you, Cas?” Eileen asked, her tone affectionate. She had spoken to Cas a few times via Skype, and Dean had walked into the library once to find Cas chastising the Youtube video on ASL basics Sam was watching, closing the lid with indignant force then settling down beside Sam to teach him himself.

Dean watched Cas answer via the rearview, saw his hands shaping and reforming with fluidity, and thinking perhaps he should learn a little ASL himself. Especially given that look on Sam’s face, Dean thought to himself, smiling. He’d not seen Sam look like _that_ in just about forever, so. It might be _necessary_ for him to learn.

Eileen laughed loud then, and embarrassed, and Dean glanced over to see her covering her face, laughing into her palms before dropping them to reveal her eyes sparkling, and her cheeks flaming red. Cas laughed himself, signing back something else when she finally looked at him again, then waved a goodbye.

“Do I even wanna know?” Sam asked once the laptop was back resting on his legs.

“No,” Eileen replied, and Dean was sure he could hear her shaking her head.

“Okay, so. Let us know when you’re thinking of coming—” Sam said, to which Dean did _not_ snort, though received a death glare anyway.

“I will,” Eileen said, “when I’ve finished here I’ll check in, see where you are,”

Dean listened to them speak for a few more minutes then leaned across again to say goodbye, turning a wide, triumphant smile on Sam the second he closed the laptop lid. “Gotta say. I approve, one hundred percent,”

“Come on—”

“I would like to add that I also approve,” Cas said, leaning forward to tell him. Sam peered back at him over his shoulder incredulously, then turned his gaze to Dean, and shook his head, turning to look out of the window—though not before Dean caught the way his cheeks bloomed red.

“Can we just… go home?” Sam sighed, turning back to send a withering look in both their directions, then returning to pretending to be really interested in whatever it was passing by his window.

Dean smirked at the back of Sam’s head, then offered up a wink to Cas in the rearview, and nodded in agreement. “Let’s go home,”

* * *

 

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically speaking, I suppose this chapter serves as an epilogue. But then if you've been reading my other stuff, then you know I'm ridiculous about these things and often end up doing two epilogues. Here's one of two then; Tumblr-ers, you have seen this one before, it's the next one that's all new and shiny for you! x

“...are you taking a picture of me naked?”

Dean heard first the camera shutter, then a soft laugh, and raised his head enough to turn an indignant, bleary eye on Cas stood to the side of the bed, the camera still held up to his face.

“If you want, I can say _no_ ,” Cas answered, taking another picture then gracefully crawling on to the bed between Dean’s legs and settling comfortably on his knees, camera poised again.

“I… don’t know how I feel about this,” Dean said, after hearing the shutter noise again. It was a digital camera, an impulse buy on the way back to the bunker, bought solely to stop Cas complaining about how quickly his cell ran out of battery when he’d decided that photography was something he might enjoy. Did a digital camera really need to make that kind of noise?

"Then I will stop," Cas smiled, moving to drop the camera to the bed, dropping a kiss to Dean's knee as he slid a hand down his thigh.

"Wait," Dean said, reaching out to grab his wrist, and after a second, pulling it back, "what're... what're you gonna do with 'em?"

Cas smiled hard at that, triumphant, already knowing he'd won. "Explore. You,"

"Me?"

"And me. Us. Together," Cas added, his eyes dropping to where Dean's throat gave an audible click.

"...I'd... maybe I'd be up for that..."

“I will mark them in a folder entitled _not for Sam’s eyes_. That I will also password protect,” Cas announced, resting the camera on Dean’s stomach for a second then lifting his knees to arrange him just how he wanted, before picking up the camera yet again.

“Uh…” Dean stumbled out, though couldn’t exactly deny he wasn’t at least mildly interested in Cas taking pictures of him. Not when the evidence of that interest was very definitely stirring itself awake between them, anyway.

“I can stop if you wish,” Cas said, though turning the camera and taking another picture that he checked in the viewfinder and smiled at, before lowering it enough to look back at Dean.

“Uh… I mean… if you’re… if you’re _enjoying_ yourself, then, by all means —”

“This will be equally enjoyable for you,” Cas assured him, splaying Dean’s knees a little wider then ducking down with intent, his eyes on Dean’s the entire time.

“We, uh… we’re leaving for Jody’s in… in a couple of hours,” Dean stuttered in a poor attempt at protest, his hips arching up at the feel of Cas’ tongue.

“In a couple of hours is not _now_ , Dean,” Cas pointed out, then sat back up to take yet another picture, “I have ample time to… do all that I want to do—for now, at least,”

Dean tried to answer, barely managed to raise his head to watch what Cas was doing to him, and dropped back against the pillow with a grunt.

* * *

“Hey,”

Dean pulled the Impala into the drive, smiling at Jody as she called out to them, and cut the engine just seconds before they were all leaping out of the car. He saw her struggling with an armful of grocery bags and jumped to help, but was beaten to it by Cas, who mumbled polite greetings and scooped up two of the bags from her hands, then turned and stood by the front door.

“Your timing’s kinda perfect,” she smiled, tilting her cheek up for Sam to kiss, then leaning to the side for Dean to do the same, with Dean taking the final two bags from her arms and Sam picking up the rest from the back of her car.

“Yeah, well, you know us,” Dean said, following her in and wedging the door open for Cas and Sam to pass through.

“Claire’s upstairs studying, apparently,” Jody called out to Cas from the kitchen, nodding towards the stairs and inviting him to go up.

“I _was_ studying,” Claire announced a little indignantly as she bounced her way down the stairs to greet them. Dean slid the bags he was holding on to the kitchen side, watching in silence as she reached for Cas enthusiastically and pulled him into a hug. He heard them muttering things to each other that he couldn’t pick up, but smiled for the softness in Cas’ tone, and the laughter laced through Claire’s.

“She talks about him more and more,” Jody said, leaning in to say it close to Dean’s ear in confidence, “she won’t say it, but. She likes having him around,”

“Well, good,” Dean smiled, feeling himself puff in pride for Cas, “I think it’s… more than he ever hoped for, that—that maybe they’d at least be friends,”

“Yeah,” Jody sighed wistfully, looking at Cas and Claire for another moment then turning away, holding up a coffee mug and a bottle of beer to wave for Dean and Sam, asking them to choose.

“Beer for me,” Sam announced.

“Seconded,” Dean nodded, smiling as Cas came to stand by his side, brushing up against his arm.

“Hey,” Claire said, coming up behind him and tugging on Cas’ sleeve, “you’re not staying or something?” Cas turned, looking down at her hand then back up again with a small smile, beginning to shrug out of his trenchcoat. “Here. Hand it over,”

“How come you don’t take our jackets the second we get here as well?” Dean teased, shrugging out of his and pretending to be offended when she spun away from his extended arm.

“‘Cos,” Claire replied, walking away, with Sam grabbing Dean’s jacket and following her to hang them up.

“That’s no answer,”

“Maybe he doesn’t try too hard like _some_ people,” Claire suggested, touching Cas’ arm as she passed and began helping Jody put away their groceries. Cas smiled to himself, and Dean’s heart soared for seeing it, he but huffed for Claire’s benefit anyway, pretending to be indignant.

“Yeah, well, not all of us can walk around like we’re a real life Constantine and scare the crap outta people just by staring at ‘em,” Dean retorted, laughing to himself as Cas blushed, and unthinkingly reaching out to pat his cheek.

“Yeah, well,” Claire retorted, spinning back around and raising an eyebrow at him, “maybe not all of us can be that cool,”

“So you admit you think he’s _cool_?”

“You think he’s a BAMF,” Claire fired back at him, smirking.

“You—” Dean began to answer, but felt Jody’s incredulous stare boring into him, then heard Sam’s laugh behind them, and asked himself why he got like this sometimes.

“Besides,” Claire added, looking at him even more suspiciously, digging her hand in her back jean pocket and pulling out a lip gloss, “Cas buys me gifts. You just bring me _you_. No contest,”

“ _That’s_ what you were buying a couple of days ago,” Dean said softly in realization, nudging into his side. Cas gave a small shrug, and a tiny, curious smile in answer.

“Okay,” Jody said, pointing at Dean, handing Cas a beer, then raising her hands up, “I have questions,”

“O—”

“One,” she continued, turning to Claire, “was that a gift? Or did you harass him for it?”

“She did not,” Cas blurted out, instantly coming to Claire’s defense, smiling shyly at her as he did.

“We were talking about a quiz in Cosmo,” Claire said, rolling her eyes and stepping away to continue putting away the groceries, “I mentioned a brand and colour I liked. That’s all,”

“Three weeks ago,” Cas added, appearing to want to be helpful. Dean grinned at him helplessly.

“Two,” Jody continued after staring after Claire for another moment, raising an eyebrow at Dean as she turned back to him, “what’s the deal with the permasmile?”

Dean felt Cas pull away from him, could almost hear the hesitance and fear that Dean wouldn’t want people to know about them. Not that he’d said anything like that in the few days they’d been together already, nor given any indication that he’d feel like that. He turned to Cas then, catching that doubt in his eyes, and offered up a wink.

“You’ll have to excuse Dean,” Sam said with a tired, put upon sigh, briefly leaning over Dean’s shoulder with glee in his voice for being in company that he knew full well Cas would never say anything crass in front of to keep him quiet, “he’s all… _they’re_ all… loved up,”

“Damn straight,” Dean replied without even missing a beat, winking again for Cas’ surprised expression, and kicking behind him for Sam’s mumbled retort about _nothing being straight about Dean_.

“Seriously?” Claire all but squealed, her eyes round, and a smile creeping up over her face.

Cas turned to him again for further reassurance, and Dean wrapped an arm around his waist, squeezing there briefly before trailing his hand across his back as he dropped it.

“Yes,” Cas said, small, and pleased, laughing softly when Claire reached out and squeezed his arm excitedly, then schooled it in, trying to appear calmer, though her mouth kept twitching up into a smile.

“You,” she said then, turning and pointing a finger into Dean’s chest and poking, “be good to him,” to which Dean held up his hands in surrender and huffed.

“Well,” Jody said, clapping her hands together and spinning away, “I think this calls for a celebration,” and Claire stepped forward, already rummaging through the cupboards for snacks and bowls, as Jody reached into the back of a cupboard to pull out an almost-full bottle of what had been Bobby’s favourite scotch, waving it at Dean in question.

“Nah, I’m good. Gotta drive later. You go ahead though,” Dean answered, already taking the glasses Jody pointed to, “hey, where’s Alex?”

“Working,” Jody answered, proudly, “but she says she’ll be back in time for dinner, so, you’ll get to see her,”

“She doing okay?”

“She’s doing great,” Jody enthused, pulling Claire to her and squeezing her into her side, “both my girls are,”

Claire rolled her eyes but not before leaning into her, spinning away again to snatch up a box of cookies and nudge against Cas to follow her out of the kitchen. Sam snatched up the remaining bowls from the side, and Jody caught Dean’s wrist as he began to turn around.

“Hey,” she said in a loud whisper, smiling up at him as she tilted her head towards the doorway, “you good?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, honest, and proud to be able to say it.

“Both of you?”

“Yes, both of us,” Dean smiled, nodding, “I mean it’s new. Like, really new,”

“But a helluva long time in the making,” Jody replied, smiling at him knowingly, “what? I got eyes. And I might’ve only seen him a couple of times, but. The way you _talk_ about him when he’s not around? Always been _something_ there,”

“Yeah, well,” Dean said, feeling his cheeks flushing and cupping at the back of his neck as he turned away, “we’re… yeah,”

“I’m happy for you,” Jody enthused, squeezing around his waist and tilting her head for him to follow her through to the lounge. Dean sank down next to Cas on the couch, with Claire sitting opposite and grinning at them hard.

“So when are you setting off for this big ol’ road trip you mentioned over the phone?” Jody asked once she was sat as well, reaching out absently for a handful of chips at the same time as Sam, and pretending to flick his fingers away.

“We’ve got a possible vamp nest to check out; maybe after that,”

“You know, you could come back here if you want, if you’re in no big hurry. Spend the night, maybe head on over to see Donna, before you set off properly. She’d love to see you,”

“How’s she doing?” Dean asked, smiling, “haven’t spoke to her in… wow. Gotta be a month,”

“She’s good,” Jody smiled, “in fact, she’s up next weekend. I’ll, uh… leave _you_ to tell her your _news_ ,”

Cas’ cheeks lit up with the slightest blush, and Dean laughed to himself, turning and nudging against his arm.

“‘Less you want me to tell her, of course,” Jody added, looking between the two of them with a continually widening smile. “Or that you’ll maybe be stopping by?”

“It’s a thought,” Dean acknowledged, snagging up a handful of chips, “though we’ll call her. We’re kind of planning on… _not_ plan anything much. Just… head off, see where it takes us,”

“How long are you not-planning on going for?” Jody smiled, teasing.

“Ah, we’ll see,”

“He’s trying not to think about how long, ‘cos he’s worried about being out of hunting and missing out on something. Or forgetting how to… I don’t know, do it,” Sam sighed, rolling his eyes but smiling.

They’d had numerous conversations about their road trip, both on the way back to the bunker, and over the day they’d taken following their case. Sam was in constant favour of it, encouraging them all the way. That he thought Dean might be doubting going, or worrying about how long they’d be gone, was pretty far from the truth of it, however, but Dean kept that to himself, feeling Cas press discreetly closer to him, because _they’d_ already spoken about taking as long as they felt like taking.

“I’m just thinking ‘bout how soon it’ll be before Cas gets sick of only me for company, ‘s all,” Dean laughed, and Cas’ fingers came to grip through Dean’s and squeeze, showing he knew he was joking.

“Well if that’s the case, why are you even going?” Claire smirked, and Dean felt the proper response was to grab up a handful of chips and threaten to throw them at her. Jody’s arched eyebrow disagreed, so he stuffed them into his mouth instead, smiling at Claire with chipmunk cheeks.

“So what are you gonna do having that whole bunker to yourself when these two are gone?” Jody asked, turning her attention to Sam.

“Enjoy the quiet?” Sam smiled, laughing to himself.

“More like have _Eileen_ over to keep him warm. Company. Or something,” Dean muttered, raising an eyebrow in challenge to Sam’s look of horror at being on the receiving end of teasing for once.

“Oh, really,” Jody purred, her eyes glinting over the top of her glass again, “tell me more,”

“There’s nothing to tell!” Sam protested immediately, causing everyone to snort in dismissive laughter.

“It’s a work in progress, right, Sam?” Dean amended, grinning at him, laughing harder still for the scowl he received back.

Jody’s eyes swept in a deliberate gaze over the three of them before turning to Claire with a delighted, conspiratorial smile. “Anything else you boys been up to?”

“Uh… just got back from a hunt,” Sam said, launching into details of their carnival case. Dean let himself tune it out, instead concentrating on the feel of Cas pressed warm into his side, revelling in it—and forgetting, at least for a little while, that as soon as their visit to Jody’s was over, they’d be off on yet another hunt, delaying their road trip by however long it took.

“Cas has taken up photography,” Sam added, and Dean tuned back in with a start, remembering Cas and his camera before they’d set off, and having to shift in his seat.

“It is… new,” Cas said, carefully, nudging against Dean’s leg.

“Oh yeah?” Jody smiled. “Got any on you now?”

“The camera is… back at the bunker. Charging,” Cas answered, and Dean had to shift again for the onslaught of images reminding him exactly how they had drained the camera’s battery.

“I got something for you,” Claire announced out of nowhere, a quick glance for Cas as she jumped up out of her seat and disappeared upstairs. Dean had a surge of relieved affection for Claire then, which morphed into simply affection, when she returned just a minute later, dropping a package wrapped up in tissue paper into Cas’ lap.

“Where’s mine?” Dean asked, earning himself an impatient sigh.

“You said,” Claire said to Cas, nudging at his foot, “maybe a week ago now, that you were… thinking of trying some writing. Saw these; thought maybe you’d like,”

With careful fingers, Cas peeled back the tissue paper to reveal a journal with a thick linen cover decorated in silver swirls on black, and opened to reveal blank, creamy pages that Dean could already imagine being filled with Cas’ now-familiar hand. Clipped to the back of it was a black pen that Dean thought was covered in birds; Cas stroked his hands over his gifts, and looked up at Claire with an overwhelmed smile.

“Thank you,” he said, soft, and after hesitating reaching out to briefly squeeze her hand. Claire shrugged as though it was nothing, but no one could miss the pleased smile on her face as she threw herself back down in her seat.

“You been to Paperchase again?” Jody laughed, glancing over Cas’ gift then turning a smile on Claire. “I swear between you and Alex you keep that store in business,”

“You weren’t complaining when I bought that stuff for your desk at the station,” Claire retorted, arching an eyebrow though smiling at the same time.

“I—”

“Or when you _borrowed_ my pen with all the butterflies on it to make a grocery list and _never gave it back —_”

“It’s in the kitchen,” Jody protested with a laugh, and Dean didn’t know what was better; watching the easy, comfortable back and forth between Jody and Claire, or watching _Cas_ enjoying them doing it.

The rest of the day passed equally easily, with Dean feeling settled and immersed in _family_ in a way he hadn’t done for what felt like an age. From Jody welcoming them in with open arms, to ushering them out again hours later with arms full of leftovers in tupperware, everything felt homely, and comfortable, and Dean couldn’t help lean into it, look back wistfully at the house in the rearview as they finally pulled away.

“We can visit again soon,” Dean said, smiling over at Cas and seeing the soft happiness that he always seemed to come away with, for seeing, or speaking to Claire. Cas turned to him, casting a shrewd look over his face, _knowing_ how Dean was feeling.

“Yes, Dean. We can,”

“Maybe when we’re done on this hunt we can come back,” Sam yawned, shifting around in the back seat as he settled. “Maybe I can follow you up in a car, and you two can go off on your road trip from here,”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dean shrugged, glancing quickly over his shoulder to see Sam laid out on his back, probably only a few minutes from sleep.

In under half an hour, Dean had only himself for company, with Sam fast asleep behind him, and Cas pressed up against the window doing the same. But he didn’t mind it, not one bit; in fact, he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at the two most important people in his life, relishing in seeing them at rest, feeling oddly protective, and proud, that they would both feel comfortable enough to fall asleep as he drove them home.

Dean thought about the hunt ahead, them beginning to move Cas’ stuff into his room so it would be _theirs,_  the road trip they’d be taking hopefully soon, and how much Eileen seemed good for Sam. Their lives may be far from perfect, and there were countless obstacles they still had to overcome. But right then, in the dark of night on a stretch of highway, with Sam and Cas sleeping peacefully beside him, it was hard to do anything but smile, and be excited for whatever the future had in store for them.

* * *

 


	19. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we are at the very, very end of this. Tumblr-ers who followed this story and contributed to the 'choose your own' polls that created this; this epilogue is in particular for you - thank you once again for taking part.
> 
> Doing this story as a choose your own and posting it as I was writing it was more than a little daunting; I've a perpetual fear of my general flakiness sneaking into my writing, and me losing interest halfway through a story, and I loathe the idea of letting people down like that. It's one of the reasons why I never post a story that isn't already complete and chaptered up ready to go - I know they look like WIPs to you when they're posting, but aside from an additional round of proofreading, they really are already done :) not having that safety net whilst writing Bumper Cars was... well. Nightmarish! But, I'm glad I (we) did it, and might think about doing another one like this over on Tumblr soon(ish), so, if you're interested, keep an eye out for that.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading :)
> 
> x

“Be safe out there. Don’t get eaten by any of them critters,”

Dean snorted at Donna’s final words of wisdom, and waved a hand out the window as he swung the Impala around, watching in the mirror as she waved for a few seconds, then focussing more on the road ahead.

“So? What are you thinking, huh, Cas? East? West? Head north, straight up to Canada?” Dean asked, turning his head to find Cas smiling out at the view in front of them in quiet delight.

“I have no idea,” Cas laughed, shaking his head, and turning to Dean with a look of sheer joy on his face as he shrugged.

“Can go anywhere you want,”

“I know,” Cas agreed, leaning over and pressing a kiss on Dean’s shoulder. Dean made a noise to stop him from moving back then darted in for a quick kiss of his own, before turning his eyes back to the road. Dean watched him in profile, unable to keep the smile off his face, unable to ignore that constant surge of excitement stirring in his gut, that had been there since they’d set off from the bunker.

They’d spent about a day at Jody’s, with Claire taking them on a tour of the town and showing all her favorite places. Jody and Dean had trailed behind in amusement as she repeatedly grabbed at Cas’ arm to point things out to him, that he paid the utmost attention to, without faltering in interest even for a second.

They’d then driven up to Donna, who’d greeted them eagerly, excited to see them, and talking about a hundred miles an hour before they were even through the door. They’d stayed for the night, and she’d sent them off with what felt like a full trunk of food, which meant if they chose to, they could spend the entire day on the road before having to stop to find somewhere to sleep.

Their road trip was long overdue, having been first dreamt up about almost six months ago now, on that case with the carnival, Thomas, and Joshua. Looking back, to Dean that whole case felt like it belonged in a completely different period of his life. Because despite those past six months being a series of case after case, doing all of that with Cas by his side had changed his perspective on everything. And though their trip had been repeatedly pushed back so they could deal with all those cases, it had never been anything but an inevitability. Dean thought that when they returned from it, their lives might be forever changed yet again, but for now he was content to just _be_ , and not to think about it too much.

They’d enjoyed their visits with Jody and Donna, happy to relax with their friends, reveling in the feeling of doing _nothing_ , and thriving on excitement for their journey ahead. But though he wouldn’t say it out loud, what Dean had been looking forward to most the entire time, was their road trip finally _starting_ , with no one else for company besides Cas, and not a single moment of it planned—and no end in sight. Cas’ smile when he turned to him told Dean he was thinking the very same thing.

“Gonna give me some idea, or just… pick a direction,” Dean asked, reaching out to snag his fingers through Cas’ and bring them back to rest in his lap. Cas shuffled a little closer, leaning slightly into his side, and sighed happily to himself.

“North… west?”

“‘K,” Dean agreed, “how ‘bout this. We join, then follow the interstate for a bit, hit the next intersection, see where we feel like heading next. Good?”

“Good,” Cas smiled, squeezing his fingers and settling back to get comfortable.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay with us… driving all this time, and… you aching, and stuff?” Dean asked, aware he’d asked the question a dozen times over, and received the same response every time. Not that Cas had complained of aching for months now, Dean thought to himself with a relieved smile.

“Yes,” Cas said, turning and nuzzling against his shoulder, “though you will forgive me if I ask for… assistance if I am in pain,”

“What kinda assistance?” Dean asked, knowing from the smirk on Cas’ face to expect something good.

“My shoulders,” Cas sighed, pretending to roll them and pout, “you know, Dean. Being sat for so long, it is… endurable, because of the company—”

“Gee, thanks,” Dean laughed, nudging against him, and feeling Cas’ fingers twitch between his own.

“—but what would help with that, I think,” Cas continued, failing to fight his smile, “is the oil in the _gift bag_ Jody put in your bag when she thought we weren’t looking,”

“You saw that, huh?” Dean laughed, shaking his head in memory at finding the _sensual and aphrodisiac massage oil giftset_ in his bag when they’d last returned to the bunker from visiting Jody with Sam, and laughing at the post-it stuck to it reading _you’re welcome_. He'd thought to ask her why she had something that in her house already, but hadn't gotten around to it yet.

“I did,”

“How’d you know I packed it?”

“You are not one to miss an opportunity,” Cas answered, sure as anything. He wasn’t wrong, Dean laughed to himself, again leaning over to drop a kiss on his cheek.

“No, I guess I’m not,” Dean agreed, and Cas turned into the kiss, chasing him for a second before Dean pulled back to concentrate on the road.

“I’m… so ready to be finally doing this,” Dean said after a minute, squeezing Cas’ hand.

Cas turned to smile at him then, so happy, it caught the breath in Dean’s throat. “As am I,”

* * *

Dean looked down at the squeezing of his fingers and recognized it as Cas’ signal for him to let go, watching as he raised the camera, with its safety cord secure around his wrist, and took aim. The familiar, though to Dean’s mind, totally unnecessary sound of the ‘shutter’ announced its capturing of whatever image Cas was seeing, and Dean smiled to himself, lightly resting his hands on Cas’ waist from behind. Cas snapped again, capturing the landscape views of the sea out in front of them before turning to his left to do the same over the long stretches of sand. He hummed to show he was finished, and Dean slid his arms around Cas’ stomach, holding him loosely, resting his forehead down on Cas’ shoulder with a soft sigh.

They were four days into their road trip, or, Dean thought, as he pressed an absent kiss into Cas’ neck, perhaps five, not really wanting to keep count. Either way, their trip already felt like one of Dean’s better lifelong decisions, if not for the break they were taking from hunting, then the relishing of extended free time spent with Cas.

Cas turned suddenly, snapping the camera in his face and spinning away again with a triumphant smile. Dean let out a whine of protest that he knew would be ignored, already blushing for the thought of going through Cas’ photography collection, knowing he’d find himself staring at his own face for every change of location.

Cas was good though, Dean thought, smiling as Cas wriggled his way back into Dean’s arms, then turned him with a nudge of his hips, until they were standing where Cas wanted them to stand. And with no objection at all, Dean crowded closer for Cas’ picture of them together, not minding the thought of seeing _this_ picture of them; perhaps even in a frame in their room when they got back.

 _Their_ room, Dean thought to himself with yet another smile, nuzzling into Cas’ neck with a contented sigh.

“Where are we going next?” Cas asked, raising a hand to slot through Dean’s fingers resting over his forearm.

“We could… stick to the coast for a while,” Dean suggested, accepting Cas’ kiss as he leaned back for it.

“Can we… sleep on the beach?”

“Not legally,” Dean kissed into Cas’ neck, turning him gently in his arms.

“But in theory,” Cas prompted, arching against him, and looping his arms around his neck.

“I guess,”

“Dean,” Cas smiled, looking thoroughly amused, “after everything that you— _we_ have done, you are concerned about us breaking the law?”

“I’d just… prefer not to draw attention to us, is all,” Dean laughed, nuzzling against him, “this is… this is _our_ time, you know? I don’t wanna dodge it having to face off with some… bored cop or something,”

“Then,” Cas said, nosing his jaw to one side to press a kiss into his neck, “I would like that we drive a little more, and find a place to stay, as close to the beach as we are able,”

“Maybe we can stop for a couple of days,” Dean said, wrapping him up in a hug.

“Are you tired of travelling already, Dean?” Cas teased, slotting one hand into Dean’s back pocket.

“Nope. But I kinda like the idea of us spending a lazy morning in bed when we don’t have to think about check-out times and stuff,”

Cas smiled, giving a single nod then slotting his fingers through Dean’s hair, and tilted his head for a kiss.

* * *

“When we return to the bunker, I would like to try gardening,”

Dean raised his head from where they were sprawled out on a blanket to see Cas’ fingers running through the long blades of grass beside them, and smiled, unsurprised by his apparently out-of-nowhere statement.

About a week after Cas had arrived in the bunker, what was now more than nine months ago, they’d been in the middle of grocery shopping when Dean had turned to find Cas stroking over the leaves of peace lily—much as he was doing with the grass right then. Dean had read the label of _low maintenance_ , and _does well in shade_ , and added it to their shopping cart, telling Cas it was a belated moving in gift for his room. A little later, and an aloe vera plant had taken up residence in the kitchen, and a little later still, Cas returned from a drive with his arms full of rubber tree, mumbling things about _air_ purification, and  _dim lighting_ , then finding it a home in their library.

Now that Dean thought about it, Cas had steadily been adding greenery into various corners of the bunker. There was a red-eyed dracaena at the foot of the stairs, snake plants at the foot of pillars in the library, and it was Dean himself who had awkwardly presented Cas with a philodendron, telling himself it wasthe  _easy_   _to care for_ _indoor plant_ label he'd bought it for, not that the leaves were in the shape of a heart. Which now sat on a shelf in _their_ room, Dean thought, smiling to himself, and reaching out to tangle his fingers through Cas’.

“Okay,” he agreed, smiling wider as Cas turned to him, “we’ll look into it. Check what kinda soil we got, what’s gonna grow, need watering; all that stuff,”

“It could be my new _hobby_ ,” Cas suggested, leaning over to kiss him, then wriggling closer, and settling with a content sigh against his chest.

“It could,” Dean answered, wrapping his arm around Cas as he settled and kissing the top of his head. “You in any hurry to get back?”

Two weeks into their road trip, and Dean definitely wasn’t ready to return, and though he doubted Cas felt any different, couldn’t stop himself from checking. Cas looked up at him with a shrewdly raised eyebrow then sat up without warning, straddling his lap and bracing Dean’s hands back against the blanket.

“No,”

“No?” Dean repeated, sliding his hands over Cas’ thighs the second he released his hands, then tilting his head up to be kissed.

“No,” Cas smiled, leaning down to him, “there are many things we are yet to... discover,”

“You mean, places and stuff,” Dean amended with a smirk, arching up against him, then humming as Cas ducked to tuck himself into his neck.

“In part,” Cas muttered into his ear with a deliberate blast of air, then began stirring his hips over Dean in a way that left him with no doubt about what Cas was intending.

“What’s that mean?” Dean asked anyway, raising his hands to slot in Cas’ pockets so he could grind back against him.

“It means,” Cas repeated, as he shifted enough to a thumb up Dean swelling length in his jeans, then popped his button open, smirking at Dean’s stutter of surprise, “that there are also _things_ I would like to discover,”

“Such as?”

“Such as,” Cas smirked, pulling down Dean’s fly and slipping his hand in the gap, continuing a lazy stroke over him through his boxers as Dean grew more erect, “if you are… _willing_ , for me to ride you, out here,”

“Here?” Dean stuttered out, feeling himself jolt with how much he was already willing for that to happen.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas smiled, playing with his own fly and laughing softly as Dean watched, giving a difficult swallow as he did, “here, in the middle of this grass, miles from anywhere, with no one to witness what we are doing. Probably,”

“We—we don’t have any _stuff_ ,” Dean blurted out as a poor excuse that he didn’t even mean, “it’s… we _walked_ here. The car’s—”

“In the parking lot of the motel we slept in last night, where I am sure we, uh… _prepared_ for this enough,”

“But—”

“Unless you do not want to,” Cas interrupted again, pulling off his shirt in one fluid movement, then standing without any sign of embarrassment to pull down his jeans and boxers in one go, having already taken off his shoes and socks, “but you should know, Dean, that before we left, I took the time to ensure, were this a possibility, that I would be… _ready_ ,”

At the thought of Cas prepping himself without his knowledge, Dean’s throat dried out, and it took him a couple of seconds to blink away the stupid feeling he was left with at that thought, before he was rushing to rid himself of his own clothes. Or pull them down, anyway, he amended to himself with a quick glance at his jeans and boxers now tangled around his ankles; just in case anyone was to walk by and he had to quickly drag them back up.

Dean looked at his own cock jolt at that thought again, and blushed hard.

Cas grinned down at him in triumph, immediately dropping to his knees, running a lazy hand over Dean’s length before holding him steady, then sliding down on him with an appreciative moan. Dean was helpless but to answer, gripping on tight to Cas’ hips as they began to move.

“How’d… not that I’m complaining... why are you like this?” Dean blasted out, planting his feet on the floor as best as he could, then thrusting up into him.

“Like what?” Cas asked, smiling down at him, stroking over his chest, and lingering his hands there as he gave another stir of his hips, biting down on his lower lip with another moan.

“This,” Dean repeated, sliding greedy hands up over Cas’ thighs, humming to himself for feeling the muscle there flex, “just… before any o’ this, I… I kind of thought it’d be me teaching _you_ new things,”

“This is _new_ to you?” Cas teased, rolling his hips again, dropping his head down to watch them together for a second, before looking back to Dean’s face.

“The—the outdoor thing might be kinda new,” Dean blasted out, his words tailing off into a groan as Cas arched then grinded down on him, “like this, anyway. It’s not… I’ve… in the car—”

“Dean,” Cas smiled again, looking thoroughly amused with himself, “the _outdoor thing_ is also new to me; as is much of what we have been doing,”

Dean groaned again, wanting to protest that Cas felt far too good at everything he did to him to be new at _anything_.

“However, I suppose I am yet to learn all of the… self-inflicted restraints of humanity,” Cas added, shifting a little on his knees and groaning as the angle change made Dean feel like he was even deeper.

“What’s that mean?”

“It means,” Cas said, bending down to kiss him, holding still for a moment, then dropping his hands to the grass either side of Dean’s head, and bracing himself as he began a long, languid roll, watching every expression Dean made with intent, “that humans… _we_ … often limit ourselves from the things we secretly want, yet do not dare to have,”

“Cas—”

“You wanted this,” Cas teased him, brushing his lips over Dean’s before kissing him again, “I saw, just how much you wanted this. Here—”

And Cas lifted a hand to wave, gesturing to the grass around them.

“—Yet also _feared_ it; and how that fear excited you,”

Dean arched up then as Cas began to circle his hips, the feel of it making him drive harder up into Cas with increasingly desperate thrusts, and Dean lost all ability to speak, instead repeated to himself just how lucky he was, as he looked up at Cas riding him, shading his eyes from the sun.

* * *

Dean glanced over to Cas’ journal wedged open on the small table of their motel room and smiled, curious though never tempted to invade his privacy - despite Cas showing him passages of what he’d written ever since Claire had presented him with the gift.

Six weeks in, and their road trip was everything Dean had hoped it would be, allowing them to just _be_ , and even get to know each other in ways they’d never had the time to do before. And though they’d agreed without too much discussion that it might be time to begin the journey home, he thought they could get away with at least another fortnight before they had to return to their lives.

Dean wasn’t sure what to expect when they returned to the bunker, but tried not to overthink it too much, knowing he’d be happy to see Sam, and feeling like he could probably face just about anything now that he had Cas. Dean smiled at the thought, hearing Cas letting himself in to the room, and turning to face him as he opened the door.

“I’m starving,” he said, reaching out for the bag clutched in Cas’ hand, nudging Cas’ journal to the side and setting their lunch out on the table. Cas picked up the journal and smiled at the page, closing it softly, and spinning it to put down on the bedside cabinet.

“Will you blame me for _working up an appetite_ again?” Cas teased, slumping down in a seat and briefly leaning in to Dean’s side.

“Fits,” Dean shrugged, sending a wink in his direction before snatching up and taking a bite of his sandwich, humming around it in approval and relief. Cas did the same, and for a few minutes they ate in silence, occasionally glancing out of the small window to the back of their room, and more often turning to look at each other with a smile.

“Did you read what I wrote?” Cas asked once they’d finished, nodding towards his journal then turning back to Dean.

“Not without you showing me it first,” Dean smiled, leaning in to kiss him, and indulging in the easy way Cas’ arms automatically lifted to accommodate him as his head fell into the crook of Cas’ neck.

“I started on a wish list,” Cas mumbled into the side of his head, dropping a kiss there.

“A wish list? Like… bucket list kinda thing?”

“I dislike that term,” Cas grumbled, and Dean would swear he could feel Cas frowning into his hair.

“‘K, wish list it is, then. What’s on it?”

“Would you like to read it?”

“You could just _tell_ me,” Dean grinned, wrapping his arms around Cas to draw him closer, with no intention of letting go.

Cas relented with a sigh, sitting up a little, but not moving any distance from Dean. “Simple things, really. Things that… perhaps we cannot consider now, but… in the future,”

“Like what?”

“Like… normal things, Dean. When our day job is simply that; something to occupy our _days_. Not dictate everything about how we live,”

“Like… post hunting?” Dean asked, wistfully smiling already, because on sleepy mornings and last thing at night, it was something they’d talked about, multiple times.

“Post… _constantly_ hunting,” Cas amended, smiling against him, “you have already said that you believe hunting will always be a part of your life in some way. Since I intend to live this life _with_ you, it will no doubt mean the same for me,”

Dean nodded, thinking back on their various conversations about things they’d like to change, fit in to their lives, as well as things they’d happily see the back of, and drastically reduce if that wasn’t possible.

“Sounds good,” he agreed, nuzzling into his shoulder, “what else?”

“Perhaps a home, that is not the bunker. Long, long from now,” Cas added, and Dean smiled for it, recognizing Cas’ uncertainty there, his fear that the bunker was somewhere Dean would never want to leave.

“All of this?” Dean said, cupping his jaw and drawing him in for a kiss. “It’s not impossible. It’s not… it’s more like a _when_ , ‘stead of an _if_. Which is, honestly, something I never thought I’d get to hear myself saying,”

“I know,” Cas agreed, sitting back up, and reaching out to snag Dean’s fingers through his.

“I want it, one day,” Dean allowed himself to say, feeling his stomach jolt for both the honesty and the anticipation of what that meant.

“One day,” Cas smiled, “when we are both ready,”

“Sounds good,” Dean repeated, nudging against his arm, “anything else?”

Cas nodded, keeping eye contact as he dropped Dean’s hand only to lightly hook a finger around Dean’s ring finger and squeeze there, holding on long enough for Dean to look down at and break out into a smile.

Cas looked back at him hopefully, but with a smile that said he knew this was something Dean would want one day too. Dean nodded, too overwhelmed to put any of what he was thinking into words, instead wrapping Cas up in his arms again, and kissing his agreement into his neck.

* * *

On the horizon loomed a large, spherical shape, stealing Dean’s attention from sneaking glances at Cas contentedly watching the world pass out his window, occasionally snapping photos with the ever-present camera in his hand.

As they drove closer, the sphere revealed itself to be a Big Wheel, its primary colors glinting in the late afternoon sun, as the wheel took a lazy spin against the backdrop of a perfectly clear blue sky. Dean smiled, reaching across the seats to squeeze Cas’ thigh, and pointing ahead when he turned to look his way.

“Hey, Cas. Wanna go to a carnival?”

 

 


End file.
